The Face of Evil
by EgixBacon
Summary: When the theft of a mysterious artifact lands Sasha in hot water, Charlie and Itchy seek help from some new visitors in an effort to bring the true culprit to justice.
1. Prologue

_Chapter 1: Prologue_

 _ **Author's Note:**_

 _ **== [Unpublished Stories]**_  
 _ **Original ADGTH Timeline == Flight of Villainy == *The Face of Evil***_  
 _ **== The Sodor Incident**_

 _Somewhere in the Mojave Desert..._

 _Shuck. Shuck. Shuck._

This was the sound of the shovel as it dug into the cold, sandy ground. Cold, of course, because this was at night - it would have been far too tiring to do this job in the blazing sun that the Western U.S. is known for - even though the summer was a month away.

"What are you boys playin' at?" barked a loud, harsh voice from behind the holder of the shovel. "If she were still alive, my grandma could dig faster than any of you. Geo-phys says there's one hell of a find down there - come on! Hut-hut-hut!"

In fact, there was not just one man digging, but a five-strong team of shovellers all working on this single hole.

"We really should have brought more water, sir," said one of them, as he unclipped his canteen from his belt. He unscrewed the cap, before pouring what little remained of it down his throat.

In response, the archaeologist took out his own canteen, before saying, "Which one of you is the most thirsty?"

"I am, sir," replied the youngest of the team.

"Well, here you are, you magnificent bastard."

Once the youngest shoveller had had his fill of liquid nourishment, he continued to work the ground.

The shovelling kept on for another half-hour, until...

"Sir! We've hit something!"

"Well, bless my darned soul. It's about time!"

It took another minute to fully reveal the artifact. After that, the six men all peered down into the hole. The archaeologist almost let a manly tear run from his left eye as he carefully lowered himself in.

"At last," he said. "It's finally been discovered..."

He plucked the artifact from the surface, before holding it firmly in both hands. As he stared at it in wonder, however, the object seemed to eerily stare back at him.

"What is it, sir?" the shovellers asked.

"Come on, boys, you know what this is," their boss replied, adopting a more friendly tone as he turned to show them the artifact. "The museum will pay big bucks for this."

Upon hearing this, the team could not help but stare either.

 _Two weeks later..._

One final time, the brown mole in the white coat scratched his head as he peered through his glasses at the schematic on the clipboard. "The last two capacitors go here... and _there_."

The floor on which he stood, was that of a fairly spacious laboratory, which was situated on a remote tropical island. The lab complex included a hi-tech observatory, and the beaches were dotted with giant pineapple trees. The island rested in an ocean, composed not of water, but of blue, blue sludge, which would drown anyone unfortunate enough to fall into it.

The mole then turned his attention towards the exit archway, which led to the beach outside. The opening had been stacked high with a ring of large, black generator modules, each one fitted with a Tesla coil which pointed towards the centre of the arch. Climbing down from the assembly, was the mole's lab assistant - a monkey wearing a green, tight-fitting suit, with grey boots, red gloves, and a purple helmet. Additionally, he possessed a small laser-blaster, which he kept holstered to his waistband.

"Got any more 'caps' to put in, Prof?" he asked, speaking quickly.

"Yes, Agent 9," the Professor replied. "A quarter-farad for number 2, and another for number 6."

He then walked over to the control desk, and heaved back a pair of blue, over-sized capacitors. The monkey, carrying them one at a time with his prehensile tail, climbed up to fit them into place.

"Nice work, Agent 9," the Professor continued. "Now, could you please go and find our friend, and take him inside? Thank you."

Outside the laboratory, a juvenile purple dragon was sat on his haunches, on a raised rocky surface, overlooking the slimy ocean. A small yellow dragonfly was hovering beside him, and together they watched as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.

"Hey!"

The dragon shuffled around, to see who had spoken.

"The portal mechanism is ready now," Agent 9 continued. "Come on."

Reluctantly, his reptilian friend jumped down from the rock, and, along with his dragonfly companion, followed the suited simian into the laboratory.

Once the Professor had carried out some vital final checks, the experiment was ready to commence. The mole made sure everyone was stood well back, before stepping over to a large power lever.

"Ready?" he said. "Three... two... one... _HEAVE!_ "

The lever clunked heavily into place, and the apparatus steadily began to whir. The capacitors started accumulating charge, and small sparks were now jumping from one Tesla coil to the other.

Soon enough, a small sliver of blue light faded in in the centre of the archway. Within a matter of seconds, the sparking had developed into a blinding ring of arcs, which produced an almost-deafening buzz. After that, the sliver had spread to cover the entire archway, becoming a deep, swirling portal. Unlike the portals that this small company of creatures were familiar with, this one looked more like the eye of a vortex, the coils of the generators still sparking violently as it rotated about its navy-coloured centre.

"Whoaaa..."

As Agent 9 muttered this, the Professor observed that the monkey had moved from his safe spot.

"No, don't! The portal has not stabilised yet!"

"Whazzat?!"

But, just as Agent 9 looked back, a rogue spark shot out, catching him unawares.

"Eeyaaaargh!"

"A-9, no!" said the dragon. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

However, he had spoken too late. By the end of that sentence, the monkey had been swarmed with arcs, which were slowly pulling him in. In response, the reptile charged forward, and grabbed him by the rubber of his boots.

"Mzzz!" ("Nooo!") the dragonfly called behind him, before quickly hiding behind one of the lab's generator domes.

After that, all that could be heard was the grating din of the Tesla arcs. A bright flash then filled the room, and lingered for a full ten seconds...

Once the noise had quietened down, the insect slowly peeked out from his hiding place. Making sure that it was now safe to come out, he did so, and looked towards the archway...

... But it was now empty. There was no sign of the portal, and the coils no longer carried a current.

Hurriedly, he buzzed over to the power lever. He tried to push it, but he was too weak to make it budge.

"Mmmm, mzzzr..." ("Oh, dear...") "Mrr-zrr! Mz-z-zrr! Zrm-zm Mrrm!" ("Spyro! Professor! Agent 9!")

When Spyro, the dragon, opened his eyes again, he was in total darkness. Once he had roused himself, he felt around, but all he could feel was a mound of fabric, and a hard wooden surface.

"Wh-... Where am I?" he said to himself. "Guys? Err... hello?"

After taking a small gulp, he spoke again, louder this time.

"Sparx? Professor? A-9? Can you hear me?"

"What was that?"

Upon hearing this unknown voice, Spyro clasped his clawed front feet over his mouth.

 _Oops,_ he thought. _Too loud!_

"Huh?"

A few seconds later, the dragon could see a small column of light appearing in front of him. He could only watch, rooted to the spot, as the column grew wider and wider.

By the end of it, Spyro knew where he was. He was in a closet; the heap of fabric had been clothing. He could tell that the light was natural, rather than artificial - due to an apparent difference in time zones, it was now the morning.

Spyro looked up at the figure, who now stood between the doors of the closet... and then...

" _Aaaaahh!_ "

" _Aaaaaaahhh!_ "

 _ **Author's Note: So, what happened next? Find out in the next chapter!**_


	2. There's A Dragon in My Room

_Chapter 2: There's A Dragon In My Room_

The warehouse was in an awful mess.

The floor had been littered with empty beer cans and half-eaten sausages - some of them bitten at both ends.

The only sound that could be heard, was the sound of two dogs snoring on the sofa. The first - the male of the two - made a rough, grating sound, though the second - the female - had a quieter, and more satisfied-sounding tone. As they were laying there, the male had his front legs - which, due to his anthropomorphic nature, doubled as arms - wrapped lovingly around his partner, and he was sniffing her hair with each inhalation between snores.

As the Californian sun slowly crept in on this peaceful Saturday morning, a sudden interruption came from the next room...

 _Ri-ri-ri-ri-ring... Ri-ri-ri-ri-ring..._

The noise of the telephone caused the female to awaken, and open her green eyes in surprise.

"Huh...?"

In a hurry to pick up the phone before it stopped, she carefully prised her partner's arms away from herself, before crawling out from under his weight. Once she was on her feet, she took the door into the room where the telephone was, and quickly picked it up from the hook.

"Hello, Flea Bite Café. What's your order?"

"Uhhh... Sasha? You there?" came a human boy's voice from the other end.

"Speaking."

"Uh, okay, umm... you see, err..."

The female dog slowly tilted the handset, waiting patiently for him to finish hesitating.

"Right," the boy continued. "I've just woken up, and... there's something in here that... huh? Sasha, I think you'll just have to see this for yourself."

The Irish Setter lowered the handset, as she wondered what the heck the boy could have been talking about.

"All right," she continued, raising the phone back up. "I haven't visited you in a while, so... may as well."

"Okay. Bye!"

Sasha then hung up, before going back into the warehouse.

"Heyyy..." said the male German Shepherd cross, who was still lying lazily on the couch. "What's... hic! What's up, Sash... Sazzhh... Zsa-Zsa?"

"Darn it, Charlie!" the Setter replied sternly. "You're still full of drink from last night. I can smell it in your breath!"

"Heeeyyy...!" Charlie said again, picking up a sausage from the floor at the foot of the sofa. "W-... want one?"

"No!" his girlfriend replied bluntly. "It'll be full of germs from being on the floor all night."

But, the Shepherd took no notice - he popped the wiener in his mouth anyway, and obnoxiously chewed it with his mouth open.

" _Eurrrgh, Chaaarlieee!_ "

Obviously disgusted with her partner's inebriated behaviour, Sasha decided to quickly fetch him a glass of water, before leaving him to rest as she walked out the back of the warehouse.

After about twenty minutes of strolling the streets of San Francisco, Sasha could see something unusual happening in the distance. As she approached, she could see a news crew gathered at the front of the local museum. As the anchor stood with her microphone in front of the camera, a team of policemen and women were walking in and out through the front door of the building.

 _What's going on?_ Sasha thought.

Taking a good look around, she noticed the electronics store at the side of the street. Hoping that the shop-window TVs would be showing the news, the red dog walked over.

... And, fortunately, they were.

"This is Sally Dane, reporting live for SFBC News. Overnight, a mysterious artifact had been stolen from the Museum of San Francisco, prompting the Police Department to cordon off the building, denying all public access as they carry out a most important investigation."

The coverage then changed to show CCTV footage of the incident. The camera angle showed a mask resting on a pedestal, enclosed in a glass case. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a dog - or, at least, what appeared to be a dog - came rushing towards the case, before violently smashing the glass with a punch, grabbing the mask in its paw, and making a hasty escape.

Sasha could not believe what she was seeing...

"Oh, my God..." she panted. "That dog looked just like me...!"

She then looked behind her, and saw some civilians standing nearby. Some of them were looking at her, with suspicious looks on their faces.

In a panic, the Setter ran over to the newsagents, and, using her mouth, grabbed a newspaper from the stand as she passed.

 _I've got to show this to the others_ , she thought.

However, she quickly skidded to a halt, as she saw that a mob of humans had obstructed her path.

"Hey, dudes!" said the young man who stood at the front of the group, holding a baseball bat in his hand. "It's the dog from the news! Get her!"

Sasha let out a scream, before turning to run in the opposite direction. Fortunately for her, being a dog, she could run considerably faster that the average human, but she still needed to find a way to lose the mob.

Thinking quickly, she now noticed that she was approaching the penthouses. It took her less than a minute to reach the side of the nearest house, before climbing up on to the side-scaffolding steps.

Once Sasha was at least a few flights up, she quickly looked down towards the ground. Unfortunately, the 'dudes' were starting to climb the scaffold as well, yelling and waving their rakes and bats.

Letting out a mild gasp, the red dog continued up the narrow, metallic steps. It took her another thirty seconds to reach the roof, but by this time, she was beginning to tire. Looking straight ahead, she saw the opposite edge of the rooftop, and, after that, the gap to the next building.

"This is it," she said to herself, muffled by the newspaper which she still held in her mouth. "Gotta jump!"

With that, she used what stamina she had left to make a flat-out sprint to the edge. She could hear the yelling of the mob coming up over the top, but she didn't have time to worry about that now - this leap of faith would require all of her concentration.

 _Fifteen metres..._

 _Ten metres..._

 _Five metres..._

 _Jump!_

Fortunately for Sasha, the next building had a lower roof than the penthouse, which was what made this leap possible. As she sailed through the air, her ears blocked out all the noises of the environment - in her mind, everything fell silent as she trained her eyes on the edge...

 _Thump!_

This was the sound of the Setter grabbing the ledge, her pulse quickening as her hind feet hung down.

Taking a deep inhalation, shortly followed by a just-as-deep exhalation, she gave one more push to climb up on to the rooftop, to safety. Once she was on all fours again, she turned around to face the penthouse which she had jumped from, watching as the mob skidded to a stop at the edge.

"Now what?" said a person who was standing next to the mob leader.

In response, the leader stepped back a bit, wound up his arm, then stepped forward to his previous spot as, he threw his bat across the gap.

On the other side, Sasha jumped back defensively, before realising that the young man's throwing power had been nowhere near enough - the bat feebly tumbled down on to the street below.

Removing the newspaper from her mouth, the Setter cheekily stuck out her tongue at the humans, before putting the paper back and continuing on her way.

Some time later, Sasha finally walked up to the house of her human friend. Once she was at the door, she gently knocked, and waited patiently.

After about a minute, the door opened. On the other side, there stood the male owner of the house. He wore a beige sweater, coupled with a pair of brown trousers.

"Oh... hello," he said, looking down at the dog. "Sasha, is it?"

She nodded.

"Then, come right in! If you're looking for David, he's in his room upstairs."

Acknowledging this with another nod, the Setter walked past David's father, and began to make her way up the stairs, as he closed the door behind her.

Once she was at the top, Sasha tapped on the door...

"David," she said. "I'm here."

"Okay," came the reply from the other side. "Just give me a sec..."

After that, David opened the door for her. He was now a little taller, and somewhat older than when Sasha had first known him, but his usual style of grey tracksuit bottoms, with a red sweater, still remained.

"Hi," said Sasha, putting the paper down on the floor, before nudging it towards him. "You... might wanna see this."

The boy did as he was advised; however, when he saw the photo on the cover, his throat almost seized up.

"That's... that's not _you_ , is it?"

"Of course not," Sasha replied. "Listen to me, David. Someone's trying to frame me, and I'm not liking it one bit. You're lucky that I made it - some mob tried to catch me, but I managed to lose them."

"My gosh..." David continued, as he folded the newspaper back up.

"So," the Setter resumed. "What was that thing you were going to show me?"

"Oh, yes. Be right back!"

He then walked over to his wardrobe, and picked something out from inside. Holding the 'something' in both hands, he carried it back to where Sasha was standing.

When the Setter saw the creature, she almost let out a scream.

"What... the heck... is _that_?"

"Hi..." the creature replied, waving his clawed front foot in the air.

"This is Spyro," said David. "He's a dragon! How cool is that, huh?"

For the second time today, Sasha could not believe what she was seeing. She stared at the purple dragon in half-amazement, half-bemusement, her emerald eyes widening almost to the size of tennis balls.

"But... b-but..." she stammered. "Please, pinch me. I must be dreaming."

"Oh... kay..." said Spyro. "Basically, I come from a world where dragons... let's just say, they never actually died out - only banished."

The Irish Setter continued to stare blankly, made none the wiser by this hurried explanation. She held out her paw...

"Pinch it!" she said. "Just... do it. Show me that I'm not going completely round the twist."

Sure enough, Spyro did just that.

"Ow!" Sasha yelled, before retracting her paw, and licking it. Sure enough, the dragon was still right there, in front of her, in David's arms.

"Sooo..." he continued. "Not to change the subject, but, you two wouldn't happen to have seen a monkey and a mole anywhere, would you?"

"Err, no," Sasha and David said simultaneously.

"They can't be far; we should go and find them."

"Whoa, whoa, hold on," said the boy. "We can't let you out of this room. What if someone in my family finds you?"

"Oh. Good point."

With that, Spyro retreated back into the wardrobe, and his two new friends made their way downstairs.

Once they were at the bottom, it was not long before they heard voices coming from the kitchen.

" _Daaaviiid!_ " yelled a woman's voice. "What's this monkey doing in my refrigerator?"

"Hee-hee-hee!" came the giggling voice of a toddler shortly afterwards. "Monk-eee!"

"Oh, no..." said David. "Oh, no-no-no!"

Sasha decided to stay back, as her human friend stepped in.

"Mom!" he said, even though she was his stepmother. "What's going on?"

"This!" she said, shoving the shivering, suited simian closer to his face. "What is the meaning of this?"

The next minute, David was sat down on the sofa, his father and stepmother standing in front of him. The monkey had now managed to break free from the woman's grasp, and there he stood, on the seat adjacent to the boy, his laser blaster pointed threateningly at the grown-ups.

"Leave the kid alone!" said Agent 9.

"We will, we will," said the father, raising his hands in surrender. "But where did you come from?"

"Ooh! I would tell you, but... you know what all the spies say."

He then gave the blaster a small nudge, before winking at David. The boy did nod his head in agreement, but not without a worried look.

Then, the toddler - David's stepbrother - finally entered the room. In his arms, he held a brown mole in a white lab coat - the Professor, of course.

"Oof, oof! Put me down!" he said. Agent 9 was just about to raise his blaster, when David quickly stopped him, before stepping over to the small child.

"All right," he said. "Give him here."

"No. _My_ talking teddy bear!"

The older of the two boys shook his head, mildly entertained by his stepbrother's mislabelling of the creature, and proceeded to gently wrest the Professor from his grasp.

After that, David, Agent 9, and the Professor all made their way upstairs, but Sasha stayed at the bottom.

"What's wrong, girl?" the boy asked.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "but I think I've seen enough."

She turned back towards the front door, and David's father opened and closed it for her. The two grown-ups then stood back, the stepmother holding the toddler in her arms - they, too, had seen quite enough.

Sasha was just about to continue on her way, when...

"Stop right there, criminal scum!"

Upon hearing this, the Setter's heart instantly sank. Before she knew it, a meaty, gloved hand had grabbed her by the neck, and thrown her in front of a team of Kevlar-clad men, who were all armed with tasers and handguns.

David's father had heard the shout as well. Putting the chain on the door, he carefully opened it again... but as soon as he saw the squad of men, he slammed it sharply, and rushed to carry his wife and young son upstairs to safety.

Meanwhile, outside, Sasha was in a dire situation. She tried to protest, but a sudden rush of adrenaline had got the better of her.

"You've got the wrong dog!" she blurted out... _in human language_.

Reacting immediately to the sight of a talking dog, the tasers were all fired at once. As the sparking electrodes embedded themselves into the dog's skin, her central nervous system was instantly filled with tens of volts of electricity.

Sasha's fur stood frighteningly on end, as the coulombs sent her muscles into spasm, before quickly incapacitating her. The man who had initially grabbed her said, "Tell that to the judge!" as he whisked her up by the shoulder.

To finish, the team loaded Sasha into the back of their van, before the leader hopped into the driver's seat, switched on the ignition, and rapidly accelerated away.


	3. Who Framed Sasha La Fleur?

_Chapter 3: Who Framed Sasha La Fleur?_

 _Ri-ri-ri-ring..._

 _Click._

"Hello. This is the Flea Bite. What's your order?"

"Err... h-hello? Who's there?"

"It's Gerta. You all right, kid?"

"... Yeah. Is Charlie there?"

"Charlie Barkin, you mean...? All right, kid. Please hold a minute."

After this, the white Bichon Frisé rested the handset on the worktop, before making her way into the warehouse.

In there, she found the Shepherd cross, still lying there, on the green sofa. To Gerta's disgust, he was now in even more of a mess than before, with empty glasses and half-eaten sandwiches littering the floor.

"You are wanted on the telephone, my good sir," she said, trying to hide her annoyance.

"... Oh?" the male dog said, his ears perking up. "Who is it?"

"Your human friend."

With a sudden rush of activity, Charlie now sprang up from the couch, making his way past Gerta to reach the telephone.

"Hey, David!" he said quite informally. "What's up, my man?"

" _Sniff_... It's Sasha. She's... _sniff!_ "

Charlie hesitated for a second, before continuing.

"Calm down," he said. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't!" the boy's voice replied. "Just... just come to my house, okay?"

"All right... I'll get there as fast as I can. Bye for now."

Charlie then hung up, before making his way to the rear entrance of the Café. He was about to leave, when...

"Hey, Charlie!"

"Huh?"

The Shepherd looked to his side, to see a brown Dachshund, with a green T-shirt and red cap, standing there.

"Wait up, man," he said. "What's the rush?"

"Itch..." Charlie panted. "It's David. He wants me to come and see him. Something to do with Sasha, he says."

"Then don't leave me behind," Itchy advised. "We should both go."

"Good. Just follow me, okay?"

He then started walking, before, slowly but surely, accelerating to running pace.

" _Charlie!_ " his friend yelled, struggling to keep up. "You know I can't run as fast as you...!"

When the two males finally reached David's house, they both knocked on the front door.

Fortunately, the boy heard the knocking. Exiting from his bedroom, he stepped down the stairs with a tired gait, until he reached the door and opened it.

"Hey, guys," he said, trying to hide his tears. "Come on in."

Once the three of them were all inside, they sat together on the sofa, with the boy resting his arms on the dogs' shoulders.

"So," Charlie began, "tell us what's wrong."

Instead of giving a verbal reply, David took out the newspaper, which he had tucked into the back of his trousers, and passed it to Charlie.

"Wh-... what is going on here?" the Shepherd whispered, looking in awe at the cover photograph - a still from the CCTV footage, which showed the perpetrator stealing a mask from inside a glass case. "Am I seeing this right?"

He then passed the paper over to Itchy - and, surely enough, he saw the exact same thing.

"Yeah, David," he said. "What happened?"

"Someone's been trying to frame Sasha," the boy replied, almost bursting into tears. "After she left the house, the armed police arrived... and... they _took_ her!"

"Oh, gosh..."

After saying this, Charlie put his arm around David, trying his best to comfort him.

"Don't cry, don't cry," he said.

Itchy, however, still had his attention turned towards the newspaper. He had now turned to the third page, which showed an archive photograph of the mask.

"Uhh, Charlie?" he said to his friend. "You... might wanna see this."

Charlie now held the paper in his paws, and looked at the photo as well. Upon recognising the face which the mask resembled, his body became tense with fear, and his hairs stood on end.

"I have a suspicion as to who could be behind this," Itchy continued. "Stay there, guys. Short-Legs is moving out."

"Wait, wait!" said Charlie, following his friend over to the door. "Where the heck do you think you're going?"

In response, the Dachshund looked back at the Shepherd, and cast him a wink.

"Investigating, of course..."

A short while later, Itchy slowly stepped up to the front porch of the old curio shop. The place now appeared to have undergone a small renovation - where there had previously been cracks in the walls, they had now been masked with plates of sheet metal, and as he looked up, the Dachshund saw that the sign identifying this eerie-looking structure had seemingly been vandalised: instead of 'Red's Curios', it now read, 'Killer's Curios', with the name Killer having been stamped on in army stencil.

"Whoa..." Itchy quietly gasped. _I just wonder what Kill's been up to in the days since his spell in hospital..._

After giving a small gulp, the short-legged dog took the last few steps up to the doors. Noticing a small intercom box at the side, he pressed the buzzer, and waited...

 _Click._

"Who's there?"

Itchy allowed a short pause, before giving his response:

"... The Feds."

"Ha! I know it's you, you prick. I can see you on the CCTV."

In surprise, Itchy looked straight up, and only now he noticed the camera looking back at him.

"But you asked who was there!"

"Well, consider yourself caught-out," the voice continued from the other end. "Ah, okay. Come in."

Then, the doors were opened by an automatic mechanism, and the Dachshund stepped inside.

"Wow..." he said, as he looked around the room. The walls of the shop had now been completely repainted, and their edges were accented with trails of electrical wiring. The windows had also been made more secure - instead of the medieval shields which had previously protected them, they were now shielded with black metal cages. Last but not least, at the side of the room, there stood a decently-sized mainframe computer, which Itchy paid particular attention to.

"So?" said the brown-furred, bespectacled Schnoodle who now stood opposite him. "What brings you here, then?"

"Uhh..." Itchy hesitated, moving his eyes away from the computer. "You know, um... Just thought I'd pay you a friendly visit."

When he looked at Killer, the first thing he noticed about him was that he was standing on a pair of grey robotic legs, which were connected to his trunk via an artificial pelvis - his real legs, of course, had been blown off in an accident.

"What?" he said, noticing that Itchy was giving him a funny look. "You thought I'd be in a wheelchair?"

"Well, yeah... How did you even _get_ those?"

Instead of answering, however, Killer walked over to his mainframe, before sitting down in its operating seat.

"Hey, Kill," said Itchy. "Don't be rude."

"Heh - fine... If you must know, this pair of legs, and this computer, were both generously donated to me by... let's just say, some friends of mine from the alma mater."

Itchy raised his eyebrow.

"Aw, you know. The Mississippi Institute of Dog-nology? M.I.D.?"

Now, both of the Dachshund's eyebrows were up.

"... That's not even a real word."

"What is?"

"Dog-nology."

Killer, interpreting Itchy's comment as facetious, decided not to answer it. Instead, he turned to his computer screen, and said, "Feel free to look around... So long as you don't touch anything."

"All righty, then."

Itchy then carefully crept away, making sure that the Schnoodle did not look away from the screen. Once he was about fifteen paces away, he now saw something new - there it was, resting on a rack attached to the wall. It was a large, black gun - resembling a rifle, but with a much larger girth. It was equipped with a red laser sight, and the barrel was surrounded by metal coils.

 _My gosh_ , Itchy thought. _That looks pretty mean._

He then turned his attention to a brown, wooden door, which stood in the centre of the back wall of the shop. As he carefully approached it, he could see that it was covered in a set of rectangular stickers, which read:

 _KEEP OUT - RADIATION HAZARD_

 _NO UVAs OR LIBERAL ARTS MAJORS ADMITTED_

 _... SERIOUSLY. DON'T COME IN HERE._

"Hmm..." Itchy hummed quietly. _The impostor must be in there._

Swallowing his anxiety, he took one last look back, before stepping up to the door. But, before trying the handle, he made the mistake of reading the stickers again, reminding him of the risks involved.

 _No!_ he thought. _I have to do this. It's now, or never._

Then, with a thrust of his arm, he placed his paw over the doorknob, and tried to twist it...

... But it wouldn't budge.

 _Darn!_

He then looked down, and saw that he had been standing on a doormat. Pressing against the door, he used his feet to slide it away, revealing a pressure pad. By unknowingly standing on it, he had triggered the door to lock itself.

 _Eeeeenggg..._

This had been the sound of a piece of machinery warming up.

"What part of 'Keep out' do you not understand?"

Itchy looked up, and turned to his left. Killer was standing there, on his bionic legs, with the big black gun in his arms.

Itchy briefly looked down at his own chest, and was horrified to see a small, red dot.

"Step away from the door, you bastard."

Itchy had no choice but to comply, but not without asking, "What _is_ that thing?"

"Oh, this? This, Mr. Itchiford, is what I like to call the KEW 5000 - Killer Electromagnetic Weapon... but you can call it the Gaussbuster."

"Okay, okay," said Itchy. "I'll go quietly, okay?"

"You better. Unless you like the feeling of bullets tearing through your sorry ass to the tune of five hundred rounds per minute, you _shall_ go quietly."

The next minute, Itchy was walking out through the front doors, with them closing automatically behind him.

Once he was at a safe distance, he said, "Well, that worked..." before making his way back to David's house.

 _ **Author's Note**_

 _ **In this chapter, I refer to Killer as a Schnoodle, even though I do not state his breed in my previous stories. For a long time, I was unsure of which breed Killer belonged to, but a quick look at a thread on Animationsource told me that he is either a "Schnauzer/Poodle mix" (i.e. Schnoodle) or a bloodhound. Considering that (IMO) Killer doesn't look like Trusty, the former seemed more reasonable to me.**_


	4. Plan 10 from San Francisco

_Chapter 4: Plan 10 from San Francisco_

"It could have been her sister. She's the only one I know of who could have been able to pull this off."

Charlie, Spyro, Agent 9, the Professor, and David, were all sat in a circle on the human boy's bedroom floor. The five of them had been discussing the circumstances of the framing of Sasha La Fleur.

"But what if it's _not_ someone we know?" David chipped in. "It's not as if Sasha and her family are the only Irish Setters on Earth. Besides, didn't you say Sarah had blonde fur?"

"I did. But, of course, hair dye _is_ a thing."

Just then, there came a tuneful knock on the bedroom door. _Shave and a haircut - two bits._

"Come in."

As Charlie had been hoping, the brown-and-mustard wiener-dog came romping in, surprisingly happily despite the recent trouble he'd had with Killer. However, when the three new animal friends entered his field of view, his face quickly changed to one that appeared to say, 'What the heck is going on here?'

"Uhhh... okay," said Charlie. "Itch, meet Spyro, Agent 9, and Professor. Spyro, A-9, and Prof, meet Itchy Itchiford."

"... Hi..." said the Dachshund reluctantly. Once he had taken his place in the circle, he continued by saying, "Missed me?" to Charlie's face.

"Uh, not really. You weren't gone for _that_ long. Oh, yes - how did your... a-hem, 'investigating' go?"

"I paid a good old visit to our not-so-good friend, Killy-boy. I would have said, 'for old times' sake', but that wouldn't really have been honest."

"So? What did you find out?"

"I found out, that... okay, let me enumerate this. Number one - Kill's got some new legs; bionic, of course. Two - he's got a big flipping gun. Three - he's implemented a new-fangled security system... and four - there's this very suspicious-looking door right at the back. I'm willing to bet that's where he's hiding the mask."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, I can't think where else."

After a moment's hesitation, Charlie questioned his friend again:

"If you're saying that Killer is behind all this... then who was the impostor?"

"Exactly, Charlie. That can't have been a real dog at all - it must have been a robot!"

Upon hearing this, the others all leaned forward curiously.

"Huh?" they all said... except for the Professor.

"If this Killer fellow is as technologically inclined - and nefarious - as this conversation would suggest," the mole observed, "then I find it entirely plausible."

"So, now that we have our suspicions," said Charlie, "then how will we act?"

"Good point," Itchy replied. "It'll be suicide as long as Kill is in there. Unless we can find some way to lure him out, we'll have no chance."

"Ahh. An impossible mission." The Shepherd mix licked his lips at the thought. "Now, this'll be fun."

"Impossible, you say? Well, it would be... if Sasha were the only girl we knew. You thinking what I'm thinking, Charlie-boy?"

With that, the two males nodded towards each other, with smug grins spreading across their faces.

For the rest of that day, the gang brainstormed up their plan. It had been decided that, once Killer had been baited out of the curio shop, Itchy and Agent 9 would move in to find the mask.

"That's it," said Charlie. "First thing tomorrow, Itch and I are going to move out and get all the supplies. After that, we wait until dark... and then, we strike."

Night fell. As David slept in his bed, the canine friends were sharing a sleeping bag for two, which David had borrowed from his father and stepmother. Meanwhile, Spyro and his two allies were using an old bean-bag as something to sleep on.

Charlie lay awake in the sleeping bag, staring wall-eyed at the ceiling. The thought of Sasha's absence left him unable to switch off - no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't slip into a deep sleep.

Eventually, he could stand it no longer. He gave a wriggle and a shuffle, and began climbing out of the bag.

"Hey!" came a harsh whisper from Itchy. "Where are you going?"

"Uhh... nowhere."

The Dachshund reached for the alarm clock, which he had been keeping close by on his side of the bag, and pressed the snooze-light.

"It's almost twelve," he said. "Couldn't you just... y'know, get to sleep already?"

"No, Itch. I can't. Not without Sasha here."

"Oh, come on -"

"I've tried; I can't do it."

After that, the Shepherd made his way to the door, and slowly opened it.

"Hey!" said Itchy again, a bit louder this time.

"Shh!"

"Oh, sorry... Charlie, you said you weren't going anywhere."

"Well, I lied. Now leave me alone."

After giving his rudely-worded reply, Charlie continued on his way past the door, before stepping down to the bottom of the stairs, and proceeding into the lounge.

By groping around on the surface of the table which stood in the centre of the room, he managed to find the all-important newspaper. He then slipped off the front cover, so that the third page now became the first.

Then, he stepped over to the mirror on the wall. Holding the paper in one paw, he placed the other on the surface of the glass.

"Ann-... Annabelle? Are you there?"

He allowed a few seconds to pass, but there came no reply.

"Annabelle, are you there?" he repeated a bit more loudly. " _Woof, woof?_ "

That did the trick. To his relief, the mirror became enveloped in a pink glow, but at the same time, Charlie hoped that his barking had not been so loud as to wake the others.

Surely enough, the image of Annabelle, the Whippet Archangel, faded in.

"Good evening, Charles," she said. "Does there seem to be a problem?"

"Well, yes. Um, three problems, to be exact. Number one, I'm having trouble sleeping; number two, Sasha has gone missing; and thirdly... well, I'll just let you see this for yourself."

He then raised the paper up to the mirror, and let the third page be illuminated by the glow.

" _Haaaaahhhhh!_ " Annabelle gasped. "No... anything but _that_..."

"What is it, boss?" said Charlie.

"That mask has not been seen in more than a century... and it is a very dangerous artifact indeed. If we are going to be discussing this, Charles, then our conversation should be held in private."

She then held out her paw, her arm appearing to reach out through the glass.

"Shall we?"

Reluctantly, the Shepherd also reached out, to take Annabelle's paw in his...

 _Whoosh!_

This had been the sound of Charlie suddenly being sucked into the mirror. The heavenly barrier prevented the newspaper from passing through as well, so as it hit the glass, it was wrested from the Shepherd's hand.

For several seconds, Charlie could not see a thing - there was only a blinding flash of white. Eventually, the flash died down, and he could now see that he was travelling through a swirling tunnel, of cream-coloured clouds and purple haze. Looking forward, he could see that he was rapidly approaching a bright spot of light at the end of the tunnel.

At that point, his field of vision was once again blinded by the white, before quickly fading out to reveal his new surroundings. Charlie now saw that he was sat at a golden table, laden with bowls of ambrosia, with the pink Whippet herself sat opposite him.

"Huhhh..." he panted. "What was that all about?"

"Mm-hmm," said Annabelle, patting her paws down on the surface of the table. "You were saying, Charles?"

"... Oh, right. About that mask..."

He then recounted to her what he had read in the paper - the artifact had been discovered in a remote spot of the Mojave desert, placed as an exhibit in the local museum, and subsequently stolen by a figure fitting the description of Sasha.

"This is a dire situation, Charles. The Mask of Belladonna has been unearthed - if the culprit were to find a way to make use of its unholy powers, then... the consequences could be drastic."

"But what _is_ it?" Charlie asked. "What is the Mask of Belladonna? Where did it come from?"

"The Mask is a horcrux," Annabelle replied. "It contains a part of Belladonna's soul - that is to say, her Essence. Alas, I know not of its origins - only Belladonna herself knows. However, one thing that we _do_ know... is the fate of its previous owner."

Upon hearing this, Charlie sat back in his seat.

"Fire away, Annabelle," he said casually. "I'm all ears."

"Thank you, Charles. Let us begin."

 _California, c. 1860._

Davey Chance was laying, awake, on top of his duvet. Ever since he had bought the Mask from the African witch doctor, that was all that this cowboy had been able to do at night. The mysterious powers of the Mask of Belladonna had plagued him with incurable insomnia, and at times, Chance could have even sworn that he could hear voices coming from the drawer in his bedside cabinet.

After a whole week of no sleep, Chance was beginning to lose his mind. By the seventh night... the voices had grown too loud.

" _Daaaveeeyyy..._ "

This time, there was no mistaking it. That mask... it really _was_ speaking to him; this was no hallucination.

"Shut up, shut up! Shut the hell up!" Chance yelled.

" _Open the drawer, Davey Chance. Release me. Let me gaze upon your sweet human face..._ "

"No... Noooo! _Eeyaaarrrgh!_ "

In a sudden spate of pure insanity, Chance wrapped his sweating hand around the knob of the drawer, and pulled on it so hard that the drawer fell to the floor. At the same time, however, a set of thin, black tendrils shot out from the edges of the Mask, and latched on to Chance's face.

" _Hurrrr! ERRAAAAAAAAAAGH!_ "

" _Mwa-ha-ha-ha! MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!_ "

The following morning, it was business as usual in the town saloon. As the barman made friendly small-talk with the locals while serving them their drinks, there came a sudden knock as the saloon doors swung open. As the visitor stepped in, wearing his spurred boots, the light filtering in from the outside left his front obscured in shadow.

Everyone turned to look. As the man slowly raised his head, it gave the barman and the customers a glimpse of his visage.

"Uhh... Chance?" said the barman. "What's happened to you? You look... different."

But Chance gave no answer. Instead, he reached into his holsters, and pulled out a pair of six-shooters. The occupants of the saloon all raised their hands in surrender, but this did little to appease the evil look in the cowboy's eyes.

 _Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!_

With superhuman accuracy, Chance shot each and every one of them in the head, alternating fire between the two revolvers. Once he'd made sure that they were all down and out, he climbed over to the back of the bar, picking up a candle, a bottle of alcohol, and a lighter.

The possessed Chance forcefully shoved the candle into the neck of the bottle, and lit it. Just as he was about to leave the building, he threw the bottle to the ground, setting the wooden floor alight. Then, as the cowboy walked into the distance, the alcohol exploded violently, and the saloon and its neighbouring properties went up in a blaze.

However, possession by the Essence of Belladonna came with a cruel, toxic twist - once it had brought out the evil in the victim's heart, it would begin to devour their flesh and bone from within, thereby disposing cleanly of the victim, and making way for a new one. Surely enough, once he had left town, Chance began to suffer this consequence.

As his bones, liver, stomach, and intestines underwent a sickening necrosis, his heart slowly began to stop beating, and the unfortunate cowboy collapsed to the sandy ground. Within a matter of minutes, nothing remained of his body, and the Mask was subsequently hidden underneath the sands, as they swirled about in the wind.

"... And that, as they say, was that," said Annabelle, finishing the story.

"Huh..." Charlie panted. "Then, there's no time to lose. May I be excused?"

"Not yet, Charles. One moment, if you please."

The Whippet then walked over to the side wall of the room, to take a pair of short swords - _wakizashi_ \- from the wall-rack. One at a time, she removed each of the swords from its scabbard, and drew her paw along the flat of its blade - causing it to give a mild white glow - before re-sheathing it.

"Take these to Mr. Itchiford," she continued, passing them to Charlie. The Shepherd was about to turn and leave, when...

"Uh-uh-uh! One more eentsy-weentsy thing, Charles."

Reluctantly, Charlie sighed as he turned to face Annabelle again. Holding a small pink glow in her paw, she placed it over his nose, and allowed the glow to seep in.

"Oh, uh... well, thanks, I guess." he responded.

"I trust that you will not misuse your Miracle this time, Charles."

"Don't worry, Annabelle. I won't."

... And with that, Charlie walked into the exit portal, returning him to the lounge of David's house.

"Hey!"

When the Shepherd cross re-appeared, Itchy was standing there to greet him.

"Oh! Hey, Itch. Was I gone long?"

"Seems so," his Dachshund friend replied, pointing at the clock on the wall. "It's six in the morning. Let me guess - you were having a tea party with the boss?"

"Well, I wouldn't really call it a 'tea party' as such... oh gosh, six o'clock? Gee, I forgot how much time dilation occurs when you're in Heaven. Ah, of course - these are for you."

He then passed Itchy the pair of _wakizashi_.

"Thanks," he said, securing the scabbard straps over his body. "Come on, Charlie. We'd better get going."

 _ **Author's Note: This concludes the first half of the story. The second half, comprising Chapters 5 through 8, should be published in two weeks'** **time** **. However, I still have the last two chapters** **to complete as of publishing this chapter, so be wary of a potential delay.**_


	5. One Night at Killer's Curios

_Chapter 5: One Night at Killer's Curios_

 _Thunk!_

"There we go!"

As Charlie placed the wooden crate down on the floor of David's room, Agent 9 gave a whoop and a holler, hopping over to it excitedly.

"Wahoo! Hoo-hah! Yippee!"

"Whoa, whoa. Hold on there, jumpy."

The Shepherd mix opened the lid of the crate, and reached inside. When his paws came back out a few seconds later, they were holding a pair of binoculars, two communicator headsets, a flashlight, and a lock-pick. He passed all of these to the suited simian, except for the remaining headset; this was intended for Itchy.

"Cooool..." said Agent 9, putting the headset on over his helmet, and placing the strap of the binoculars around his wrist.

"All right," said Charlie. "Now we just have to wait for..."

 _Knock kno-kno-knock knock, knock-knock!_

"Oh, of course. Speak of the Angel, and he shall appear! Or, at least, I _think_ that's him..."

With that, the Shepherd stepped out of the room, before walking downstairs to the front door.

Charlie undid the latch, and pulled open the door. Just as he had been expecting, his Dachshund friend was stood in the doorway, with a red-and-yellow Cocker Spaniel by his side.

"Hi, Itch! Hello to you too, Bess."

"Good afternoon, Charlie," the couple said simultaneously, as they stepped into the hallway. Itchy was now wearing his blue jacket and grey shorts, with Bess sporting a stylish blue dress and a white fascinator. To further enhance her appearance, her face had been embellished with blue eye-paint (to match the dress), and rose-coloured blusher.

"My gosh," said Charlie. "I really hope you're fine with this, Itch."

"Huh? Fine with what?"

"... You know. Remember that time when we tried to get your collar back from Carface?"

"Remind me."

"I let my jealousy get the better of me... you know, with Sasha dancing with him, and all that..."

"Oh, yeah - _that_ time... but I wouldn't worry, Charlie. Once Killer's out of the house, Bess here will be least of my problems."

"Ah!" said the Spaniel. "I guess you won't want me taking Killy-boy to the Italian restaurant, huh? Mmm... spaghetti!"

"Bess..." the Dachshund replied. "As long as you don't get into baseball territory, I will have no qualms about it. I'm not going to move from my hiding spot until you and Killer are at a safe distance."

Once Charlie had been assured about the 'jealousy problem', he passed over to Itchy the headset he'd been keeping for him.

 _Using your girlfriend as a distraction, eh?_ he thought. _It only works, if you've got good willpower._

After that, all they had to do was to wait...

Later on, surely enough, the sun began to set. Charlie, Itchy, Bess, and Agent 9 were all stood in the lounge, with the largest of the three dogs delivering one final briefing.

"All right?" he said, in a rather informal conclusion. "Are you all ready, guys?"

"Yes, sir!" the Dachshund, the Cocker Spaniel, and the monkey all called out in unison.

"Then Godspeed, I say!"

With that, the party of three marched out of the house, beginning their heroic stroll over to the curio shop.

At nightfall, the shop finally came into view. As Bess made her way up to the front door, Itchy and Agent 9 looked for places to hide. The Dachshund took cover behind a low wall, outside of earshot, while the monkey moved in behind an alleyway dumpster.

Plucking up her courage, the Spaniel pressed her paw against the buzzer, and waited. She soon heard the sound of metallic feet clunking against the wooden floor...

 _Creeeaaak._

"Bess?" the dastardly Schnoodle said. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi, Killer... Umm, what are you doing this evening?"

"Hmm?" Killer perked up his ears. "I'm... not doing much... waaait. Why are you so interested in what _I'm_ doing, anyway? I thought you were with Itchy."

"Well, nah..." Bess made sure to choose her words carefully, unsure as to whether Itchy could still hear her. "We've kinda been... how should I say this? ... _Losing interest_ for a while now."

"Ah... well, I'll be getting ready to go to sleep anytime soon. If we're going to go anywhere, then it'll have to be quick. Tell you what - I'll let you sit on the couch while I go upstairs and get dressed."

 _All right,_ Bess thought. _Let's do this._

Once the two of them were inside, Bess laid herself down on the green sofa. As her eyes surveyed the room, Killer climbed the stairs up to his bedroom.

When he came back down a few minutes later, the Schnoodle's artificial legs were obscured by a pair of baggy grey trousers and red sneakers, and on his top half, he wore a white T-shirt, which had Maxwell's equations printed on its front.

"I know these clothes might be way too casual," he said, "but it's the best that I've got."

"Oh, don't worry, Killer," the Spaniel commented. "I think it looks fine." Of course, however, this was a little white lie.

"Hmph, all right. So, where d'you wanna go - the beach? That Indian place? Oh, I know - how about Chinatown?"

"The Chinatown? Oh, yes - that'll be great!"

With that, the two dogs made their way out of the shop, with Bess taking Killer by the paw.

Once they were at a safe distance, Agent 9, who had been watching the scene at the doorway through his binoculars, pressed the switch on the headset, and spoke to Itchy:

"Alpha Niner to Checkpoint India. Bravo and Kilo have flown the Red Nest. Repeat, Bravo and Kilo have flown - over."

"Copy that, Niner. Moving in - over and out."

With that, the monkey and the Dachshund approached the back door of the shop. Looking up, Itchy noticed the to-be-expected CCTV camera, which was watching over the doorway. Fortunately, a well-aimed throw of his _wakizashi_ left the camera in a mangle, disabling it.

Next, A-9 stepped over to the air vent which neighboured the door, and picked it open, before beginning to crawl through it.

"India?" he said, looking back over his shoulder. "Are you able to fit through?"

"Negative," came the reply. "Argh! I knew we should've brought that margarine..."

Upon hearing this, the simian clapped a palm against his face.

"All right, time for the backup strategy. Wait there, India - I'm going to go around and open the back door from the inside."

"Huh... Then, why didn't you just pick the door in the first place?"

"Don't be stupid, dog. Everyone rigs their back doors with tripwires these days..."

After making this rather over-generalised claim, Agent 9 crawled the rest of the way through the vent. At the other end, he fell out on to the hard floor, performing an _ukemi_ to soften the landing.

Now that he was on his feet again, he unclipped the flashlight from his belt. Switching it on, the monkey looked to his right...

... And there it was! Just as he and Itchy had been hoping, the Mask was there - resting on top of a solid, black, cuboidal display stand, protected by a cube of glass. However, a wall of slightly thicker glass stood before it, and next to the stand, there was also a large, blue capsule, which rested diagonally against the wall behind.

"... India," he said into the headset. "... The Prize has been sighted."

Upon hearing this, the Dachshund's ears flipped upwards, as he tried not to lose his composure.

"Then, whatever you do," he replied, "do _not_ approach it yet. Make sure you let me in first, okay?"

"Roger that."

As the monkey turned back towards the door, he could see that it was at the end of a short corridor. It took only a few careless steps, before a sharp pain triggered in his foot.

"Tttthhhh!" he seethed. _Ouch! A caltrop!_

In fact, the whole corridor was littered with the things. Carefully, letting the torch light the way, he sneaked his way back to the rear entrance.

Just as he was almost at the door, his eyes caught sight of something at the bottom of the doorframe - a grey, pillow-shaped box. On the wall opposite it, Agent 9 could see a tiny, red dot.

"Well, fancy that - the door's rigged with a tripwire mine," he said to Itchy, as he sneaked back across the matrix of caltrops. "I'm going to try to set it off with the binoculars - stand back!"

"Niner, no! What the heck do you think you're doing?"

"It's going to have to go off, either way. Unless you want to be turned into sausage-meat... then, _stand back_."

"Argggh..."

Once Agent 9 was as far away from the door as he could get, he raised the pair of binoculars again, and, holding the flashlight in his other hand, aimed for the door.

 _Three, two, one... Toss!_

The binoculars flew through the air, landed on the other side of the caltrops, and slid into the path of the tripwire...

Bee-bee-beep! Ka-BLAM!

The door was torn from its hinges by the violent explosion which ensued. Agent 9 dove to the side, as the spiky hazards were blown towards his side of the room - some of them embedding themselves in the wall. Meanwhile, outside, Itchy jumped back in shock - even though he had made sure to stand well away, as the monkey had urged him, the _boom_ took him by surprise, as he had no prediction of exactly when it was going to occur.

However, the vibrations from the detonation had spread widely through the ceiling of the back room. The glass wall resonated strongly, before shattering into a thousand pieces, at which point, the room was suddenly illuminated by bright lights.

As Agent 9 shielded his eyes from the brightness, Itchy made his way in.

"Agent 9! Agent 9!" he yelled, once he was at his side. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah..." the simian replied. "Just a little shaken, that's all."

But, then, the Dachshund looked up, and saw that the front panel of the capsule had now slid open.

"Ah!" he said. "Look!"

Vapour began to billow out from the opening, and the sound of creaking metal could be heard coming from within. Before long, the machine inside had completely emerged, and once the vapour had cleared, the Dachshund and the monkey could see exactly what it was.

The metallic being was a robotic dog, clad in an orangey-red exoskeleton, formed from a multitude of sharp-edged polygons. Its underbelly and face were tan in colour, and its eyes were ringed with bright green LEDs.

"It's the Sasha robot!" said Agent 9, pulling his blaster out of the holster as he assumed a kneeling position. Itchy, also preparing to fight, unsheathed the pair of _wakizashi_ from his back.

The robot raised its right arm, such that the upper arm was level, and the forearm was at a half-right angle. Its - or perhaps, her - hand, retracted back into the wrist, and out came a long, thin blade, at least a couple of inches longer than that of the _wakizashi_.

Agent 9 opened fire. However, the laser blasts only appeared to bounce off, doing barely any damage at all.

"No, don't!" said Itchy. "Hold your fire. I'll handle this!"

He then advanced towards the robot, his swords crossed in front of his face. But, when he jumped up to strike, the robot gave a forceful slash sideways, and as it clashed with the shortswords, the Dachshund was sent tumbling to the side.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Bess and Killer were exploring Chinatown. As they stepped among the many stalls and stands, the Spaniel tried to hold Killer's attention by making small-talk with him.

"Wow," she said, using a pair of chopsticks to pull up some noodles from a small white bowl. "This _wonton_ is delicious - you really should have picked some up for yourself. Mmm!"

 _Urrrgh,_ Killer growled in his mind. _She's only trying to waste my time._

Before long, the Schnoodle had started to quicken his pace, gradually widening the distance between himself and Bess. He slipped into a clearing in the Chinatown, which was crawling with pedestrians and dog-walkers.

"Killer! Wait!" Bess called after him. "Where are you going?"

Going into the clearing after him, she tried to get him back in her sights. Frantically looking around, it took several vital seconds for her to recognise his trousers and shirt in the crowd.

"Hey, you! You can't go yet!"

She then ran over to the one who wore the grey and white... and upon catching up to him, she used her jaws to grab him by the ankle...

"Hey!"

"Huh?"

Looking up, the Spaniel saw that she'd been mistaken. This was not a dog, but a human! Though his trousers were grey and baggy, his sneakers were blue rather than red, and his T-shirt was completely plain.

"Oh, sorry!" she barked, letting the man go.

"Ha, ha!" Killer sneered, taking a quick look back. "Lost you now, sucker. Those twerps think they can have a little dig through my stuff whilst I'm gone, eh? Well, I'm gonna catch them red-handed!"

Back at the curio shop, the fight between Itchy, Agent 9, and the robotic Sasha had progressed out of the back room, and into the main living space. As the Dachshund and the metallic Irish Setter continued to clash swords, the monkey jumped up from behind the robot, and grabbed on to her neck.

In response, she spun around wildly, trying to throw him off, but his gloves still held firm.

"Go on!" said Itchy, the metallic dog's attention now having been taken from him. Once she had stopped spinning, and was facing away from him, the Dachshund rushed forward, with one sword pointing forward.

However, the robot had very acute reflexes. Reaching her left arm over her shoulder, the hand retracted to reveal a grey nozzle with holes, a small pilot light burning at the end.

 _Flammmmm!_

A stream of fire spewed forth from the nozzle. The heat repelled the two heroes, leaving Agent 9's suit and gloves badly singed.

After initially jumping back, the Dachshund resumed his advance, despite the fact that the robot was now facing him. Their swords clashed together once again, as Agent 9 lay injured on the floor.

Even though the blades were matched two-to-one, the robotic Sasha could parry every one of Itchy's attempted sword-swings. Eventually, the wiener-dog raised the swords in a cross, preparing to perform a cross-chop, but the robot knew exactly how to counter this: by swiping her blade upwards from below, she caught the _wakizashi_ while they were still crossed. Itchy was carried up off the ground, and, just as the handles were wrested from his grasp, he was sent flying.

After that, the robot turned back to Agent 9, and advanced toward him. Just as his shaking hand raised up the laser-blaster, her blade swiped it effortlessly from him, smashing the gun and tossing it through the air at the same time.

"No! Mr. Laser Blaster!"

After that, the metallic Setter raised her blade up high, her left hand now having come back out to support her right wrist. Her voicebox produced a sound resembling crackly, down-sampled cackling, before the sword began to drop...

 _Shink!_

Fortunately, Itchy had quickly recovered from the fall from his brief flight. He had crawled back to collect his swords, and, in this most dire moment, thrown one of them towards the back of robo-Sasha's neck. The cold blade of the _wakizashi_ had penetrated the exoskeleton, and cut through a stand of vital wiring - the robot's spinal cord, so to speak. As the metallic dog fell to the ground, Agent 9 had managed to roll out of the way just in time.

"Hoo... hoo..." the monkey panted. "Whoa, Itch. That was a close one."

"Heh," the Dachshund replied. "You all right, Niner?"

"... Yeah. Just a little... you know... burned out!"

Itchy allowed himself a slight giggle from this.

"Killer! Killer! Get back here!"

But it was too late. the dastardly Schnoodle had already made it to the front door, leaving Bess only able to watch helplessly from a distance.

"Ah-ha!" he yelled, as the doors burst open. "Not so fast, you twerpish pricks!"

Itchy stood himself back up. As he stepped over to retrieve his second sword, Killer dashed towards a gun-rack which was positioned just by the door. From it, he took out a sawn-off shotgun, and pointed it at the Dachshund.

"Niner, go," said Itchy, as he poised himself. As he had instructed, Agent 9 got back on his feet, before limping his way to the back room.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Killer yelled, pulling the trigger. However, Itchy had jumped to defend the monkey, crossing the swords in front of himself. The metal of the blades had deflected some of the pellets, but not all of them...

"Eeyargh!"

As Agent 9 made it into the back room, he turned to face the Mask again. Stepping up, still with a limp, he smashed the glass with his fist, before taking the object away.

But, as he continued, his head began to feel very light indeed. His eyes caught a glimpse of the open door, and read the first sticker...

"No..." he panted. "Radiation hazard? Ohhh..."

Despite this, he still soldiered on, stepping through the caltrop-littered exit path.

But, just as he reached the blown-out doorway...

 _Boom!_

The second shot had been fired from the sawn-off. As the vast array of flying pellets tore through his back, the monkey fell to the cold, hard ground.

"Noooooooo!" Itchy yelled, still seething from the agony of having half a shot's worth of pellets embedded in his torso. "Agent Niiiiine!"

As Killer stepped up to the monkey's fallen body, he reached down to take back the Mask of Belladonna.

"Ha, ha, ha! _My preciousss!_ "

Outside, a downpour of rain began to fall from the dark sky above. Bess, realising the failure of the mission, started to make her way back to David's house, the precipitation leaving her dress sopping wet as she went...

 _ **Author's Note: Fun fact - I was watching**_ **The Fellowship of the Ring** _ **when I was writing the last part of this chapter. (That's why Killer says, 'my precious'.)**_


	6. I, Dog-bot

_Chapter 6: I, Dog-bot_

Back at David's house, Charlie and the Professor were sitting on the living-room couch. The sounds and lights, blaring and shining from the television, formed a distraction from the mission which had been occurring on the other side of town.

Just as the programme cut to a regular commercial break, there came another knock on the front door...

"Hm?" Charlie got up from the sofa, and made his way to the door. As he pulled it open, he was greeted by the sight of Bess, the Cocker Spaniel, standing out on the porch in the pouring rain. As she raised her head, the wide-pupilled look in her eyes filled the Shepherd with doubt.

"So?" he continued. "What happened?"

"It's not looking good..." the Spaniel replied, allowing her eyes, which were running with paint, to close as she shook her head. "The others didn't make it out."

Upon hearing this, the Shepherd's face fell.

"Killer managed to lose me in a crowd," Bess resumed, shaking herself dry as she stepped inside. "When he got back to the shop, I could hear him shooting at them."

"Oh, gosh... They didn't get themselves killed, did they?"

"I don't know, Charlie. It would have been too dangerous for me to go in and see."

After about a minute of hesitation, Charlie allowed Bess to go up to David's room. Stepping back into the lounge, he slumped on to the sofa again.

"Charles?" said the Professor. "Should we retire as well? It's getting rather late."

"You can go up, Prof - I'm not stopping you. I'll just be staying down here; it's not as if I'm going to be getting much shut-eye anyway. Wait a sec... 'Charles'? Only Annabelle calls me that."

"... Annabelle?"

"Uh... Never mind."

As a bright light shone down from above, Itchy's eyelids slowly pulled themselves open. Raising his head upwards, he allowed his pupils to constrict as his vision swam into focus.

Ah, how that light made him smile... but, at the same time, it made him feel uneasy. It took several seconds for him to make the grim realisation - that if he were, in fact, dying, then this was far from the right time.

Then, he tried to move himself... and that was when his wrists and ankles ceased to budge.

"Ah!" he gasped, taking his gaze away from the light. He was not rising. Nor was he ascending. In fact, he was entrapped in a chair, and the light had been but a simple ceiling fixture. Now, his train of thought had slammed itself into reverse - he was relieved to still be alive, but this now meant that he was in a very troublesome situation.

Looking ahead, he saw a large, black operating table, with the body of the robotic Irish Setter laid down on its back. Turning his head to the right, the Dachshund now saw Killer, sitting at the operating seat of his mainframe.

"Okay, the compiling's done... Writing to disk, dah-dah-dahh... There!"

He then ejected a stack of floppy drives from the main tower unit, and carried it over to the table, placing it down by the robot's side.

"Hmmm!" he continued. "Ah, Itchy. It's nice to see that you've woken up, just in time to witness... the rebooting."

"Huh?" the Dachshund groaned.

Next, Killer rolled the metallic dog on to its side, revealing that the back of its neck had been seamlessly repaired.

"Good as new, eh?" he said. "A couple hours of soldering and welding - nothing too major."

Itchy then looked right again, further over this time, and saw that his swords had now been secured on a wall-rack, adjacent to the Gaussbuster, and were encased within the same kind of black, metallic cage which had been used for the windows.

When he looked back, Killer was about to place the stack of drives inside the robot's chest, when...

"Hey! What about Agent 9?"

"Hm?" the Schnoodle hesitated, looking up. "That darn monkey, you mean?"

"Yeah! What did you do with him?"

In response to this, Killer reached down under the table. When his paw came back out, it was holding the monkey's lifeless body by the shoulder. He briefly raised him up high, before tossing him down to the floor in front of Itchy's chair.

The Dachshund was horrified by what he saw. Agent 9's body was riddled with shotgun pellets, and his clothing was horribly damaged - his suit was ripped, the soles had been torn from his boots, and his gloves were left hanging from his fingers.

As Itchy looked back up, a wide snarl spread across his face, and he gave a most enraged growl.

"God rest his poor bastard soul..." the dastardly Schnoodle said.

"No!" Itchy retorted angrily. "The only 'bastard soul' around here... is _you!_ "

 _Bzzzzzzzzt!_

"Eeyaaarrrgh!"

By pressing a small red button in the corner of the table, Killer had sent an electric shock into the chair.

"Hoo-hoo-hoo!" he laughed. "May the wrath of Annabelle crash down upon you!"

" _Not funny, Kill!_ " the Dachshund snapped, reeling from the shock. "Urgh! What do you think this place is - a mental institution?"

"Ooh! You ain't seen the best part of it yet. Now, where was I? Ah, yes."

He then proceeded to lower the stack of drives into the chest compartment. Once it had been secured, he pressed and held his finger against a small grey button in the top of the compartment.

Then, after about ten seconds, the apertures in the robot's eyes slowly opened. Not long after, the rings of green LEDs began to switch on, and Killer closed the lid of the compartment, knowing that he needed to hold the power button no more.

Then, the robot rose slowly from the table, and looked up to meet the eyes of its creator.

"Ah-ha! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! CyberSasha lives! CyberSasha LIVES!"

Itchy's mouth changed to a wide gasp as he witnessed this. He was now filled with the sting of a missed opportunity - had he had a little more time before Killer returned, he could have done more to put the robot into disrepair - by chopping off her head, perhaps, or splitting her right down the middle... but it was too late for that now.

"Now that I've installed her with a new AI build," said Killer, "she'll be even more deadly than ever!"

Once CyberSasha was up on two legs, she and her creator approached the imprisoned Dachshund. She extended her sword towards him, but Killer commanded her to remain at ease.

The Schnoodle then reached over to the back of the chair, where a large, hemispherical dish was positioned, standing upright. Taking off Itchy's cap with his other paw, Killer pulled the dish down until it was level over the wiener-dog's head.

After that, a set of clamps extended from the apparatus, and as they secured his head in place, a strange force seemed to overpower him...

... And that was when his mind went blank.

"Ah-ha!" said Killer again. " _Now_ it's a mental institution!"

Once Itchy's mind had completely fallen under, Killer moved his mouth up closer to the Dachshund's ear, and whispered:

"So... where are the twerps?"

"D-... Dav-..." Itchy stammered. "D-David's h-house..."

"You heard the dog," the Schnoodle continued, turning to CyberSasha as he put Itchy's cap back on. "Set destination to 'David's house'."

"Affirmative."

With that, the robotic Setter made her way out of the shop, and at the same time, Killer stepped back to his mainframe; both pairs of robotic legs clunked as they went.

Reaching over to the paper tray, the Schnoodle pulled it open... revealing the Mask of Belladonna inside.

After taking the Mask in his paws, he carried it back to the centre of the room. Removing his glasses, he then stared down at the object, viewing it from the back.

Those eye-holes... those empty, empty eye-holes. Despite the blurring of his vision, Killer could have sworn that they were outlined with a sinister green glow. A second later, the inside of the mask appeared to jump out at him. However, this was more than the simple concave-mask illusion - it really did appear, to his eyes, as though the face of Belladonna herself were leaping out towards him.

Once he had taken a great gulp, Killer slowly raised the Mask up to his face. It was just an inch from his skin, when...

"No..." he said, forcing it away from himself. "I can't do it. No, I just can't..."

But, the very next second, that all changed.

" _If you can't, then I'll do it for you!_ "

"Huh!?"

Suddenly, the dreaded tendrils shot out from the edges of the Mask. The Schnoodle let out a violent scream, as they latched firmly on to his face.

" _Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!_ " the Mask laughed maniacally. After that, it was fully attached, and its laugh, now became his laugh...

Inside the living room, Charlie was laying, half-awake, on the sofa. Looking up at the clock once more - five o'clock, it read - he began to slowly raise himself up from the cushions.

 _Gee,_ he thought. _I should be getting some water - I'm feeling kinda thirsty._

Surely enough, he proceeded to step through into the kitchen, before making his way to the sink. As he turned the cold tap slowly to the left, however, he could feel a strange tingle creeping down his spine - as though he were being watched.

Re-closing the tap, he stepped to the side, to look through the door to the patio. Plucking up the courage, he undid the latch, and gently slid it open...

... But, even after taking a good look around, giving a thorough check of the surroundings, it appeared to Charlie that there was no one around. Sliding the door back, he gave a quiet whistle as he returned to the sink.

Once his glass was full, he turned back towards the lounge, quietly sipping the water as he walked on his hind legs. But, then... there came another chill.

 _There must be someone here. I can sense it._

Turning to face the sliding door once again, he lowered his drink, and stared intently towards the centre of the pane. After almost ten seconds of this, he'd had enough, and turned his back yet again...

 _SMASH!_

The very moment the Shepherd was again facing away from the patio, the glass of the door was suddenly shattered by the cold steel blade. In shock, he dropped the glass of water, leaving the floor at his feet wet and covered in shards. When Charlie made his fourth about-turn, he was met with a sight which filled him with dread - CyberSasha was now charging straight towards him, brandishing her sword and flamethrower as she went.

Upstairs, the sound had been heard by everyone else in the house - David, his father, step-mother, and step-brother, as well as Spyro, the Professor, and Bess, were all awoken by the loud smashing of the glass door.

"Ooh! Ooh!" said the Professor, the loudness hurting his sensitive ears. "What was that awful racket?"

Meanwhile, inside the master bedroom, David's young step-brother had been greatly disturbed by the smash.

"Waaaaah!" he bawled. "Mommy!"

As his mother jumped out of the bed, dressed only in her nightgown, she hurried over to try and comfort the little toddler.

"Shh-shh-shh!" she whispered. "It's all right, it's all right..."

"Huh?" said David's father. "What the heck is going on?"

He then dashed over to the bedroom door, and sharply pulled it open. However, he could now see that Bess, the Spaniel, was beginning to make her way down the stairs, with David following closely behind.

"David, no!" his father said. "Don't go. It could be dangerous!"

"But, Dad..."

"No buts, son. Let Dad take care of this. I'd rather you stayed in the master bedroom."

"... Okay..."

Reluctantly, the boy made his way in there, to join his step-relatives. As he helped his step-mother with the toddler, his father trotted down the stairs to follow Bess.

When the Spaniel reached the doorway of the kitchen, she saw that Charlie was being chased around the room by the robotic Setter. As she slashed at him with her deadly blade, all he could do was to avoid her. At one point, she had even set fire to the table and chairs, and tried to throw them at him, but still with little success. Bess watched nervously from the sidelines, until, after several minutes of this death-defying dance, CyberSasha finally made a connecting hit...

The tip of the cold blade raked through the skin of the Shepherd's chest, leaving a long, narrow scar. After spinning around from the hit, he fell down on to his back, leaving his legs and arms splayed out to the side.

"No!" said Bess as she witnessed this, but once CyberSasha turned towards her, she had to stifle the scream welling up in her throat by taking a bug gulp. However, she, miraculously, did not fail to notice the wink in Charlie's eye - though he had only been injured, he had feigned death in an effort to lose the robot's attention.

Bess could not play cat-and-mouse now - she would need to fight back against this metallic menace, or else the rest of the gang would be put in jeopardy.

Dashing forward, she engaged the robot in combat - as she ducked and dodged to avoid CyberSasha's sword swipes, she replied with a flurry of scratches, though these did little damage apart from making dull scratches in the livery of the exoskeleton.

Before long, the fight had progressed into the lounge. Even though CyberSasha was continuing to slash wildly with her blade, Bess was agile enough that the best the robot could do, was to make tears in the fabric of her dress.

After about two minutes, the Spaniel had managed to get around to behind her enemy. Grabbing the metallic being by the neck, she attempted to throttle her - but, again, this did little to appease CyberSasha.

It did not take much of a struggle for the robot to shake Bess off, and, surely enough, she had thrown the Cocker to the floor, before punishing her with a blast of flame. Bess tried to roll frantically on the carpet in an effort to extinguish herself, but CyberSasha immobilised her by stomping her metallic foot against the Spaniel's head.

Next, she reached down with her sword-arm, and rested its sharp tip against Bess's forehead. But, just as the robotic Setter was about to drag the blade through her vulnerable skin...

"Hey, tin-can! Over here!"

CyberSasha raised her head, and looked towards the kitchen doorway, taking her attention away from the Spaniel. There stood David's father, continuing to pelt her with epithets and taunts.

"Come on, you big hunk-a-junk! You may not be ugly, but _darn_ , are you a threat! Think you can catch the birdie?"

In response, the metallic Setter moved away from Bess, and made her advance towards the human man, brandishing her weapons as she stepped up.

"Despicable human!" she said through her crackly voice-box. "If I have to make you shut up, I will!"

As she stepped into the kitchen, David's father backed away from her slowly.

"There we go," he whispered. "Keep going..."

"What are you playing at!? Fight me, you fool!"

But the man kept going. Briefly glancing behind himself to avoid both Charlie and the burning furniture.

Before long, he was up against the worktop in the back corner, where the sink, microwave oven, and toaster were positioned, with the top cupboards looming above them.

"You big coward!" CyberSasha continued. "That damn Spaniel could have run a quarter-mile in the time you've wasted! Oh, well... looks like I have no choice, but to _END YOU!_ "

She then made her final advance. As David's father stood helplessly in the corner, the Setter raised her sword-blade high above her head, bringing her left hand back out to support it.

Then, just as she began to swing down, David's father reached quickly behind himself, grabbing the toaster with both hands. Just in time, he managed to bring it up to his face...

As the cold blade slashed into the top of the appliance, the current in the heating elements started to flow up into CyberSasha's arm. Before long, her entire body was coursing with excess charge, overloading all of her vital circuits.

Recoiling from the shock, David's father threw the toaster away from himself, leaving the robot to collapse down to the floor, and writhe violently on the tiles. This continued for a whole minute, before CyberSasha had gone completely still.

"Dad?"

David was now standing in the side doorway of the kitchen, which led in from another room.

"I told you to stay upstairs, son," his father replied. "What are you doing down here?"

But, the boy gave no answer. Instead, he turned to the burning table and chairs, and then to Charlie.

"Ah!" he gasped. "Dad, get the fire extinguisher!"

"Wha-? Oh! I forgot!"

Once the burning furniture had been extinguished (fortunately, Bess had already managed the same for herself since CyberSasha had left her alone), David and his father turned their attention to the sleeping Shepherd.

"Charlie?" David asked. "You all right?"

"... Huh?" he groaned, rising from the floor. "Is it over now?"

"Yes. Come on, we've gotta make sure Bess is all right."

The three of them then moved into the living room, and saw the Spaniel sitting and panting on the rug.

"Bess?" Charlie asked. "Are you okay?"

"Huh... huh... mmm. Not _too_ bad - just a few tears and singe-marks here and there."

"Come on, Charlie," said David's father. "We've gotta do something about that scar."

Upstairs, in David's room, Charlie and Bess had been moved into the boy's bed. As the Cocker rested herself under the covers, David's step-mother was working hard to sew up the scar which ran across Charlie's chest, cleaning the blood from the wound as she went.

Once this had been finished, David said:

"So... what now?"

"There's only one thing for it," Charlie replied. "We'll have to return to Killer's."

But, upon hearing this, everyone stood back reluctantly.

"Nuh-uh!" said Bess.

"Aw, come on, guys," the Shepherd continued, getting up from the bed, and walking to the door. "We can't just stand around and wait, or things will only get worse. Killer still has the mask, and we've got to stop him. So, who's with me?"

However, out of this small crowd of onlookers, only one stepped forward.

"I'll go."

"But, Spyro," said the Professor. "Without Sparx, you're vulnerable!"

"I know, Prof..." the dragon replied. "But it's times like these, when, you know... you gotta..."

"... Believe?" Charlie interrupted.

The purple dragon turned back towards the Shepherd cross, and a small smile crept on to his face.

"That's right..."

The two of them then came up face-to-face, and yelled...

" _You gotta believe!_ "

"So, it has been settled," said the Professor to conclude. "Spyro and Charles..."

Charlie gave him a stern look.

"Err... Spyro and _Charlie_ , a-hem, are going to go out there... and fight the good fight!"

"Yeah!" David, his father and step-mother, and Bess, all rejoiced. With that, Charlie, the German Shepherd cross, and Spyro, the purple dragon, made their way out from the bedroom, down the stairs, and out through the front door.

"So..." said Charlie, once they were outside. "You ready?"

"Heck," Spyro replied. "I was born ready."

"... And so was I."

Upon saying this, Charlie lightly tapped a finger against his nose, and a small pink glow could be seen. After that, he and Spyro began the journey to Killer's Curios, with the sun rising majestically over the horizon as they ran...


	7. A Hole in the Earth Pt 1

_Chapter 7: A Hole in the Earth, Part 1_

At long last, Charlie and Spyro found the front porch of the old curio shop. Stepping up to the doors, the Shepherd took a deep breath, and gave one last gulp, before slamming his paws against them.

The doors flew wide open, as they had been left unlocked. When Charlie entered, his eyes quickly scanned around the room. To his surprise, however, it appeared that Killer was nowhere to be seen...

Instead, he noticed the black chair, right in the centre of the floor. On it, was sat a grim sight, which made his pupils narrow almost to a point. There it was - the cadaver of the suited simian himself, sat upright in the seat, as though he had been posed for a piece of post-mortem photography.

"No!" came the dragon's voice, yelling from behind the Shepherd. "A-9, no!"

Running over to the monkey's lifeless body, Spyro could only stare, just as Charlie was doing, with his mouth hanging widely agape.

It was not until a whole minute later, that Charlie finally knelt down to the floor, tilting his head straight up towards the ceiling. At the top of his lungs, he howled Killer's name, with a feeling of pure hate in every drawn-out letter.

Then, he looked back down, and that was when he noticed the pair of spectacles, lying at his side on the rug.

"Oh, no..." he said, raising them up to take a closer look. "You know what this means, Spyro?"

The purple dragon turned back toward him, and when he saw the glasses as well, he took in a great gasp, his mouth gaping even wider than before.

"This is it," the Shepherd continued. "We've got to find Killer now, or else there'll be..."

But, just as he was about to finish his sentence, Charlie could feel a sudden vibration in the ground beneath him. Only the very next second, however, it was followed up by an earth-shaking tremor, and as the whole building shook from top to bottom, Spyro could feel it as well.

"Uhh..." the dragon said, "what was that?"

"It came from over there," Charlie replied, pointing in the direction from which he had sensed the rumble. "Come on. We've gotta move!"

Making their way across town, the pursuit of the tremor had brought the dog and the dragon to the same street as the Flea Bite Café. As they stepped along the pavement, the heroic duo were met with a most horrific sight - right in the middle of the road, a great, red, gaping crater had opened, bringing the traffic to a complete standstill. In addition, a great billow of crimson smoke, as well as the distinctive smell of sulfur, were rising from the edges.

Before long, Spyro and Charlie had made their way to the edge of the crater. As they both laid prone on their fronts to peer down into the hole, the great abyss of red and black filled them with dread.

"All right..." said Charlie. "There's no turning back now. You ready?"

"Born ready," the purple dragon replied. "As always."

With that, they both stood up, and, with loud simultaneous cries of 'Geronimo!', jumped down into the crater below.

For the next minute or so, all that Charlie could feel was that he was falling. All around him, it was completely blank, and silent, until the light at the end of this vertical tunnel finally came into view...

At the bottom, the Shepherd crashed down on the deck of a wooden ship, the timbers cracking loudly as they broke his fall. The ship was aground, rather than afloat, with heaps of rock surrounding its broken hull.

"Ugh..." Charlie groaned, climbing up out of the recess that he had made in the deck. "Spyro? You there?"

After shaking himself to relieve the tension in his joints, he looked up towards the bow of the vessel.

 _Huh?_ he thought. _What's that?_

As he began to walk along the deck, his eyes focused on the lone figure who was standing on the bow. Moving closer, Charlie could see that she was a dog clad in a glowing white dress, embroidered with intricate patterns of lace, as well as a veil obscuring her head and face.

It did not take long before the Shepherd was stood next to her. Leaning forward, he could see that her paws were clasped tightly in front of her chest, and he slowly reached up to try and lift the veil. However, his paw passed straight through it, and instead, he had to move his head inside in order to view her face.

"Sasha?" he said, seeing that she appeared to be asleep. "What the..."

Reaching down, he tried to take her by the arm, and to his relief, it appeared to be solid. Though he pulled with considerable effort, the arm barely budged. It took another, more forceful pull from Charlie to take the arm away from her chest.

However, as he did so, the female Setter's elbow suddenly gave way. As the forearm separated from the upper arm, the Shepherd fell back on to the deck. Looking up, he gasped as he saw the exposed flesh of the remaining stump, before turning his attention back towards the forearm, which he held in his hands.

Then, in the corner of his eye, he could see that the body was now beginning to collapse. Looking up once more, he could only watch as the mirage gradually dissolved, to reveal another dog meditating beneath it. There the brown Dachshund was, balancing, completely still, on the hilt of his sword, which was itself balanced vertically on the deck.

Getting back up, Charlie approached his friend cautiously, but not without raising what he held in his hand back up to his face. Surely enough, it was no longer a foreleg, with a wrist and paw attached, but rather, the second _wakizashi_ of the pair.

Hopping down from his perch, Itchy took up his sword, and turned towards the Shepherd.

"Let us make this a fair fight," he began. "One sword against one."

But, Charlie was reluctant to accept this challenge.

"I don't want to fight you, Itch," he said. "Not if it means harming my best friend."

"Enough! You have already taken up your weapon - therefore, you have no choice but to fight. Besides, you should not consider me your friend - consider me... your rival. You may not be trained in the art of the sword, but I promise that I shall not take that for granted... _En garde!_ "

With that, the two males assumed their fighting stances, standing with a distance of about three paces between them.

" _Allez!_ "

When he opened his eyes again, Spyro found himself surrounded by a sea of yellow. Climbing up out of the dip in the spot where he had landed, he allowed his vision to focus, upon which he could now see a mass of edges in the golden sea.

Rather than being a pool of liquid, such as honey, this was a large hoard of gems. Looking further, the dragon could see that it was speckled with gems of smaller values - red, green, blue, and the occasional purple gem here and there.

"Wow," Spyro whispered, as he began to climb his way to the top. At the very crest of the mound, there sat a gigantic purple gem - many times the mass of a regular one. The young dragon, completely mesmerised by this awesome sight, used the coloured gems as footholds as he, slowly but surely, made his way up the heap.

Meanwhile, back in the ship's chamber, Charlie and Itchy were fighting their fateful duel. However, the match was mostly one-sided towards the Dachshund - whenever Charlie tried to go in for an attack, Itchy would effortlessly parry the blow, before replying with a quick jab. At any time that the wiener-dog attempted a more powerful strike, Charlie would only parry it; on the few occasions where he tried to reply or counter, Itchy would only parry _that_.

After what must have been two-and-a-half minutes of this, the Dachshund finally managed to land a decisive blow. Striking Charlie in the shoulder, he sent the Shepherd tumbling down to the deck.

Charlie tried to recover from this, but just as he was about to get back up, he found that Itchy's sword was now pointed directly at his chest.

"That scar..." he remarked. "Was it from CyberSasha, perhaps?"

Charlie did not answer this. In response, the Dachshund moved the tip of his blade to the end of the scar, and began to slowly drag it through the stitches.

"Aaarrgh!" Charlie groaned as he recoiled in pain, interrupting the cut after the second stitch.

After this, Itchy raised the _wakizashi_ high above his head, and prepared to perform a downward stab. But, then...

"Ugh... Ohhh..."

All of a sudden, the wiener-dog began to feel weak at the knees. Dropping the sword at his side, he knelt down on the wooden deck, as his head was filled with a nauseous feeling.

"Itch?" said Charlie. "What's wrong, buddy?"

The Dachshund said nothing at first; he only continued to groan in pain.

"Itch, no..." the Shepherd continued, raising his friend's head. But, only a second later, Itchy's chest gave a sudden jump, and Charlie had to roll him over to allow a stream of vomit to spew forth from his mouth.

"Ohh..." he groaned again, as he watched the spring-green puddle seeping into the timbers. "Wh-... Where am I?"

"You don't know?" his Shepherd friend replied. "You were having a swordfight with me. Do you not remember that?"

"Err... no. All I can remember is... being in this chair, and... urrrgh..."

"Okay... How are you feeling, buddy?"

"Not good..."

Charlie hesitated for a moment, before continuing:

"All right. Do you remember being in Killer's Curios last night?"

"Uhh... yeah?"

"Bess told me you'd been shot at. Is that true?"

"... Yeah."

"Okay, okay. Can you remember what sort of gun it was?"

"Huh..." the Dachshund panted. "I think it was... yeah, that's it. It was a sawed-off shotgun."

"That's it!" said Charlie. "It's most likely lead poisoning, Itch. Come on, let's get you out of here."

The Shepherd then re-sheathed both of the _wakizashi_ , removing one of the scabbards from Itchy's back and strapping it to his own. Next, he lifted his friend up off the deck, before carrying him off the ship and on to the rocks below. After that, they made their way to the outside wall, where Charlie noticed one section which appeared to be slightly indented, and with a smoother surface than what lay around it.

"Umm..." he said. "Open, sesame? Nah, that's not gonna work..."

He then thought hard for a moment, before trying another password:

"Kibble!"

That did the trick. The section of wall slid back another inch, before retracting downward into the ground.

"Whoa..." said Itchy, who was now stumbling along closely behind Charlie. "How did you figure that out?"

"I have no idea," came the reply. "I just guessed something Belladonna-related, and... well, it worked."

With that, the two males made their way through the opening, and into the next room.

In there, they found themselves at the bottom of a giant heap of rocks, which sloped upwards toward the back of the room. Looking up, Charlie saw that the peak of the mound was crowned by an enormous boulder, and at its foot, there stood...

"Spyro, no!"

"Huh?"

But, it was too late - the dragon had already laid paws on the large, spherical stone; in the mirage which he had envisioned, the boulder - as well as all the other rocks - had appeared to him as gems.

Then, to the horror of the three of them, the ground began to rumble violently. The rocks in the heap shook and jumped about, and, within seconds, a gaping fissure had begun to open in the floor...

"Oh, snap..." Charlie sighed. He tried to run back to the opening in the wall, but it had now closed back up, leaving the party trapped inside.

Then, the fissure continued to widen, and by the end of it, the floor had completely receded into the walls. Now, the dragon and the two dogs were left to fall down the long, vertical chamber, among the great cascade of rocks and boulders.

" _Aaaaahhhhh..._ "


	8. A Hole in the Earth Pt 2

_Chapter 7½: A Hole in the Earth, Part 2_

At the bottom of the shaft, the fall of rocks crashed down on a floor of hard, black basalt, producing a cacophony of smashing and crumbling. This continued on for what must have been at least a whole minute, until each and every rock and stone had assumed a state of rest.

"Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" came a loud cackle from the centre of the room, its owner having found that the three heroes had, seemingly, all been crushed under the rubble. "You fell for the mirage, you twerpish dragon! Couldn't you have told that it was too good to be true?" Of course, this rhetorical question would have meant little to Spyro - after all, discovering large hoards of treasure was nothing new to him.

Next, the cackler stepped over to a mound of rocks at the side of the room. Using his new-found strength, he shoved them all to the side, revealing the barely-alive Dachshund laying underneath.

"What the hell was _that_ all about?"

As he woke upon hearing this, it took a great effort for Itchy to even open his eyes, and point them upwards to see the face of the dog who was now standing over him. Of course, it was none other than Killer, the dastardly Schnoodle himself, though his appearance was not quite the same as before: his fur had now changed in colour, from a sandy brown to a blueish violet, and his back was now adorned with a pair of black wings. On his face, the Mask of Belladonna had taken the place of his spectacles, which he no longer required, as the Essence had granted him the same level of vision as the Arch-Demon herself. In addition, the back of his head was now adorned with the evil Whippet's distinctive ponytail, and he held his weapon of choice, the KEW 5000, in his paws, though his bionic legs still remained.

"A trained sword-wielder such as yourself," he continued, "losing to a complete novice? To describe that as a disappointment, would be an _understatement!_ "

The Dachshund had to pant several times before he could answer.

"Don't kid yourself, Kill," he rasped. "You only have yourself to blame for that. You're the one who pumped me full of lead, and you know it!"

"Haaahhh!" Killer gasped. "You remembered! My mind control device should have wiped your short-term memory clean..."

"... Well, it didn't. Looks like it's back to the drawing board for _that_ , then..."

In response to this, the possessed Schnoodle raised the gun, and pointed it directly at Itchy's cap-clad forehead.

"No," he said. "Rather than that, why shouldn't I use _this_ to not just destroy your short-term memories... _but all of them!_ "

 _Kreeeeeeeeeeeeeeng!_

As the coils began to flow with current, the helpless Dachshund could not bear to look. His eyelids screwed up tightly, as the bright red dot illuminated the gap above the fastening band of his cap...

 _SMASH!_

" _What!?_ "

Suddenly, a great crack had split the largest of the boulders straight down the middle. As its two halves fell to the side, a column of dazzling pink light shone out from the hole it had left in the centre of the mound.

As the possessed Killer turned to observe this sight, the red laser-sight traced away from Itchy's head. The two of them watched in awe, as a single body rose up from the heap of stone.

The head, to begin with, had the muzzle, left eye, and left ear of Charlie, and on the other side, the eye and horn of Spyro. The front of the neck was plated by rows of off-white scales, which reached all the way down to the pelvis. As for the arms and wings, they were vice-versa from the parts of the head - the right side had the front leg of a dog and the wing of an Angel, whereas the right had the corresponding parts of a dragon. To finish, the legs and tail were dragonic towards their beginnings, but canine at their ends.

"Huhhh..." Killer panted, almost dropping the Gaussbuster to the ground as the feeling of bewilderment loosened his grip. "Impossible..."

"No. It's not impossible," came the reply. "It's a Miracle!"

"Ah?"

With that, the figure formed a ball of light between its hands, before throwing it forcefully towards his adversary. However, Killer reacted quickly, and made a jump to the side to avoid this.

"Ha!" he continued. "You're going to have to try harder than that if you wish to defeat me, Charlie Barkin!"

"Of course," the half-Angel-dog, half-dragon commented. "Just as Belladonna herself would say. Besides, it's not simple old Charlie you're dealing with now - this time, it's _Sparlie_ Barkin!"

"Hmph. Well, then, Sparkly Bark-nuts... Let's see how you fare against _THIS!_ "

On the last word, the possessed Schnoodle slammed his metallic foot down against the warm basalt, which triggered another tremor to spread through the floor.

"Mwa-ha-ha!" he continued to cackle, spreading out his new wings as an opening appeared in the surface of igneous rock, revealing a mass of hot, orange lava underneath. "Let the raising of Hell, begin!"

As Killer flew up and away, still cackling as he went, the lava began to rise, spilling up and over the edges of the hole. Seeing that it was now spreading out towards the walls of the room at an alarming rate, Sparlie ran over to retrieve his friend, taking him up in his arms, before lifting off in pursuit of the Schnoodle.

After about ten seconds of flying up through the chamber, Sparlie took a quick look back down. Now, the flow of lava had become a shooting geyser of flame, which was rising rapidly behind him. Looking ahead again, he could see that Killer had used his acquired demonic powers to open a large portal, which matched the appearance of the external crater, and reached from wall to wall.

Bracing himself, the dragon-dog followed the devious one through the hole, and on the other side, the lava geyser spewed out from the crater in a gigantic plume.

High up in the sky, Sparlie slowed until he was hovering in place. Observing the ground below, he witnessed as the deadly, orange flow continued to spread, ravaging everything in its path - this included the cars (and other such vehicles) on the road, as well as the buildings in the immediate vicinity. One of those, being...

"No! Not the Flea Bite Café!"

Resuming his flight, the dragon-dog descended rapidly towards the diner, leaving his Dachshund friend rather shaken by the whole experience.

"This isn't good for my stomach, you know!" he yelled. "Oohhh... uh, oh... _bleeuurrgh!_ "

"Waiter? Waiter! This steak is under-cooked!"

"Oh, is it? We're terribly sorry about that, sir. May I have your plate back, please?"

Mildly annoyed by this unsatisfactory service, the customer did as requested. However, there was now another, rather messier problem coming his way... well, two of them, to be precise.

 _Splurge!_

"Euuurrrgh!" the man groaned. Not only was he drenched in the green stuff, but so were his server, and the table at which he had been sat.

"Oh, dear..." the waiter commented, in a rather deadpan manner. However, when he saw what was coming up behind his client, he had more to say in his monotone voice.

"Excuse me, sir, but it seems that we are faced with quite a formidable flow, of what appears to be... lava."

"Well... excuse _me._ "

"A-a-hem. Behind you."

When the man finally turned, he found that the waiter had, in fact, been speaking truthfully.

" _Aaaarrrrgh!_ "

Meanwhile, as Sparlie and Itchy entered the diner, they were met with quite a dire sight. The tremor from earlier in the day had caused the shelves behind the bar to collapse, leaving the floor there littered with shards of glass, and the deadly flow was now eating its way into the side of the building.

Frantically looking about the place, it at first appeared to Sparlie that no one else was in. However, only a second later, his ears could sense a muffled voice from behind the bar...

"Help..."

"Gerta!"

Rushing over, Sparlie used his strength to part the broken planks of wood, discovering the white dog underneath. The pieces of rubble had dug painfully into her skin, leaving it riddled with bleeding wounds.

With a grunt and a heave, the dragon-dog pulled Gerta out from the spot where she was trapped, before saying, "Come on! I've gotta get you two to safety."

Carrying one dog under each arm, Sparlie used his powerful wings to fly up and away, finding a suitable rooftop at a safe distance from the epicentre.

"Now," he said to his companions, laying them down on the hard surface. "I'd like the two of you to stay here until it's over. I'm going to have to finish this myself."

"Uhh... Sparlie?"

"What is it, Itch?"

"F-fly... err, uhh... behind you!"

Turning towards that direction, Sparlie was greeted by a squad of Fire Imps. However, unlike the regular members of their species, these Imps possessed wings, enabling them to fly, and each of them was wielding a miniature crossbow in its tiny hands.

"Yaaah!" the leading Imp yelled, all of them firing on his signal. Faced with this salvo of bolts, Sparlie reacted by shielding himself with his Angel-wing.

The crossbow bolts all made a plinking sound as they bounced off the feathers of the wing, leaving the dragon-dog completely unharmed. In response to the attack, he shot out a volley of glowing orbs from his paws, which homed in on the Imps to send them falling out of the sky.

"Gosh..." Sparlie panted. "When Killy-boy said he was going to raise Hell, he sure wasn't kidding. Wish me luck, friends!"

With that, he spread his wings once more. He was just about to take off and fly back down, when...

"Hey, dingus! Over here!"

When Sparlie turned to face his adversary, he was surprised to see that the possessed Schnoodle was now stood in the centre of the rooftop. As he slowly approached on his metallic, prosthetic legs, he raised the sight of the Gaussbuster up to his eye.

"There, there," he continued. "Now just hold it steady, so I can shoot your sorry ass."

"Heh! As if I'm going to let you," Sparlie retorted.

But, no sooner had he finished his sentence, than a burst of electromagnetically-propelled rounds had begun careering towards him. In defence, the dragon-dog shielded himself quickly - this time, with both wings.

Where they had overlapped, the stretched-out skin of the dragon-wing, combined with the feathers of the Angel-wing, had been just enough to block some of the shots. However, where the bullets had deviated from the centre of the aim, they had passed by only one of the wings - this had slowed them somewhat, but not enough so as to prevent the opening of several small gashes in Sparlie's skin.

"Urrrgh!" he groaned. "Hthhh!"

"Ho-ho!" Killer laughed. "That was but a warning, Barkin. Now, unless you're wishing to learn what full-auto feels like, then you'll hand over those twerps immediately."

Sparlie said nothing in response; he simply stood rooted to the spot, as he and Killer stared each other down.

"Three... Two... One-and-a-half... One-and-a-quarter...!"

After waiting for as long as he dared to, Sparlie squatted down slightly, before jumping up into an arc. Reacting to this, Killer turned the mode switch on the gun, and fired while raising it in an attempt to trace his adversary. However, the dragon-dog had been too fast for him, and once he had landed on the other side, he threw a glowing white fireball towards the Schnoodle.

After having reached a straight vertical angle with his aim, Killer lowered the Gaussbuster back to the horizontal as he pivoted around. He tried to open fire again, but fortunately, the fireball had prevented that.

As the burst of heavenly flame exploded against the metal of the electromagnetic weapon, the Gaussbuster was sent flying out of Killer's paw. At the end of its trajectory, it landed stock-first at the edge of the roof, before tipping over and sliding off.

"Argh!" Killer yelled, before attempting to run after his weapon. However, Sparlie acted quickly, creating a wall of white flames to prevent his adversary's advance.

"Let us make this a fair fight," the dragon-dog said, laying down his sword as he repeated the prior words of his friend. " _Mano, a mano._ "

"Hmph," the possessed Schnoodle replied. "If it's a fistfight that you want, then it's a fistfight you shall have!"

With that, the two males dashed towards each other, until their fists collided powerfully where they met.

"Come on," said Sparlie. "Let's fly!"

With that, the two of them took off into the sky above the rooftop. The holes which had been made in the dragon-dog's wings meant that it took more effort for him to fly, but not so much as to leave him grounded.

As they fought this airborne battle, both Sparlie and Killer exchanged blows at a blinding rate. However, it was near-impossible to tell who had the upper hand - no punch was left unreplied to, and whenever either of the dogs used an attack involving their teeth or claws, the other would do the same, but with more force.

It took several minutes until the first truly decisive attack was made: Killer had managed to strike the side of Sparlie's head, leaving him momentarily dazed, before pushing his opponent away, with cupped paws opposed wrist-to-wrist.

Tumbling back down to the roof, Sparlie landed with a loud thud, causing him to seethe again as his wounds were grated by the hard surface.

"Ha, ha, ha!" the Schnoodle cackled, hovering back down to land. "You are no match for me, feeble Angel. Once I'm finished with you, me and my army of hellspawn will be free to create Hell on Earth!"

"... No. You're wrong," Sparlie replied. "If you defeat me, the Essence of Belladonna will devour you from the inside. Besides, what makes you think that the forces of Heaven couldn't stand up to you?"

"Hah! What do you know about the Essence?"

"You remember Davey Chance, don't you, Belladonna?"

"What are you talking about?"

"No, Killer. I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to what's _inside_ of you."

With that, Killer dropped to his metallic knees, before a wide, devilish grin spread across his face.

" _Yesss!_ " came the voice of the Essence from his mouth. " _Chance, of course!_ "

"Belladonna..." said Sparlie.

" _Perhaps if my current host were to completely annihilate you,_ " the Essence continued, " _then I could make just one tiny exception... and let him live!_ "

"You wouldn't. You can't!"

" _Nothing says that I can't!_ "

"Then why did you kill Chance!?"

Without answering this, Killer stood up again. Cupping his paws together, he began to form between them a ball of red-and-green flames.

" _Go on!_ " the Essence said to Killer. " _Destroy that Chucky-boy!_ "

"Oh, no, you don't!" the dragon-dog retorted, forming a ball of white between his own paws.

Then, some ten seconds later, the two dogs simultaneously released great blasts of flame from their hands. Halfway between them, the heavenly white and the hellish red and green collided, flaring out in a circular plane.

The two of them roared at the tops of their lungs, as they both pushed to shift the point of equilibrium. After less than thirty seconds, however, it was slowly, but surely, progressing towards Sparlie, with him panting furiously as he struggled to push back.

"Erraaaagh!" he yelled, once the plane of collision was within three feet of himself. At this point, his eyes closed tightly, and he could hear a soft voice inside his head:

" _You have the power to do this, Charles. Believe in yourself..._ "

 _... Huh?_ Sparlie thought. _Annabelle... is that you?_

" _Listen to me, Charles. Focus your mind and your soul, and you will pull through victorious._ "

By this time, the end of his beam had shrunken to within eighteen inches.

" _Believe in_ yourselves..." the Archangel's telepathic voice continued, referring to Spyro and Charlie as a pair. " _... And focus..._ "

As eighteen now became twelve, Sparlie did as instructed. His mind's eye now faded to a pure white, and within himself, he found the strength he so desperately needed.

"This is it, Killer!" he spoke. " _Now... we... BELIIIIEEEEVE!_ "

With that, the horizontal column of white began to grow again. The meeting-point of the two beams was now accelerating towards the other side, such that, by the time it had passed the centre, it was progressing at such a rate that Killer's pupils were narrowed in shock.

"Wha... Nooooo!"

 _FRASSSHHH!_

Once the flames had cleared away, Killer was left laying, unconscious, on the hard surface of the rooftop. The Mask had now been detached from his face, and it too lay there, at the side of his head.

Once he had retrieved, and sheathed, his sword, Sparlie stepped back to where Killer was, and carefully picked up the Mask in his left paw.

"This is it," he said. "It's time to finish this."

After that, he glided back down towards the crater. Upon returning to the ground, he saw that it was surrounded by hordes of Imps, boars, and giant fleas. Not only that, but the crater itself had been shrouded by a volcanic dome, formed from solidified magma.

Sparlie made a bee-line for the volcano, using the _wakizashi_ to defend himself from the hellish creatures. Once he had climbed up to the peak, he stood by the hole, holding the Mask over it.

Taking in a deep breath, the dragon-dog prepared to throw the artifact in. He raised his arm up high, before swinging it downwards, and opening his paw...

... But when his arm came back up, he was dumbstruck to see that it was still holding the Mask.

"What the..."

Upon taking a closer look at his paw, he could see that a set of tendrils had attached themselves to the palm. He tried frantically to shake them off, but when they detached, they migrated to his face in the blink of an eye.

" _Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!_ "

"No!" Sparlie yelled, struggling to prise the tendrils from his skin. However, his fingers could do little to prevent the Mask from attaching itself to him.

Only a second later, the face of Belladonna had pressed itself firmly against his. As he clutched his temples, the evil, cackling voice ceased to stop.

" _You're mine now, Chucky-boy!_ " it said. " _Let's see how_ you _take charge of the forces of Hell!_ "

"Uuurrrghhh!" the dragon-dog groaned. "Get out of my heeeaaad!"

Then, with what little willpower he had left, he clenched his right fist tightly around the handle of the Japanese shortsword. Fighting against the will of the Arch-Demon, he slowly raised his arm upwards.

" _What are you doing with that? No! Put that sword down this instant!_ "

"I don't think so... cousin of Annabelle!"

With that, Sparlie wedged the blade in under the Mask, and sliced across his face. Even though this left his skin badly grazed, it worked to sever the dreaded tendrils, leaving the demonic horcrux to fall down into the volcanic crater below.

" _Noooooooo!_ " ... _Fizzzzz_...

Once the Mask had been eaten by the lava, the army of hellspawn was sent into a blind panic. Sparlie took the opportunity to escape, and once he was at about a hundred yards, the dome was engulfed in a burst of flames.

By the end of it all, the army of hellspawn was nowhere to be seen, and all of the lava had solidified into magma. The crater had been sealed up, and was no longer spewing fumes. Sparlie, meanwhile, was laying on his back, having been blown away by the force of the explosion.

"Ughhh..." he sighed, with a relaxed smile on his face. "Now _that_ , was awesome..."

Back on the rooftop, Itchy and Gerta were crouching at the edge, having watched the spectacle from a distance.

"My gosh," the Dachshund said wearily. "He did it. Char-... er, I mean, _Sparlie_ did it!"

"You all right, Itchiford?" the Bichon Frisé asked. "I know I'm kinda battered and bruised, but I can still help you if you need it."

"Thank you, Gerta. Could you take me to David's house, please? I'm really not feeling okay at the moment... _cough, blulp_..."

"There, there. I'll help you down."

With that, they went to take the side-scaffolding back down to ground level, before making the trek to the boy's home.


	9. Reunion

_Chapter 8: Reunion_

Inside the cold, dark police cell, Sasha La Fleur, the Irish Setter, was resting her back on the hard floor, staring hopelessly at the ceiling. At the side of her, there sat a metal compound bowl - on one side, there was but a shallow disc of water; on the other, were a few small chunks of left-over, cheap-brand dog food.

Eventually, the Setter rolled over on to her side. Craning her neck towards the bowl, she parted her chops, making a feeble attempt at picking up one of the chunks.

 _Urgh,_ she groaned. _Being here sucks. This food sucks. I'm tired, thirsty, and hungry. How much longer must I wait before someone comes along and rescues me?_

Reluctantly, she got back up on her feet, and snapped up the last few bits of food, before lapping up what little remained of the water. Once she had finished, she blew away the split ends which had been hanging in front of her eyes, her voluminous hair having been ruined by the stress.

Then, the sound of footsteps could be heard, coming from the end of the corridor which led to the cell. As it approached, Sasha stepped hurriedly towards the mesh which kept her inside, hoping that this would be good news. However, when she saw the blue trousers and white shirt of the advancing human, her heart sank.

"Ay-up!" he said, as he peered through the gate of the cell. "What's the catch of the day today, then? Ha, ha!" Perhaps it should be mentioned, that the tone of his laugh was more light-hearted than villainous.

Next, he withdrew from his belt-loops a dull, grey chain, with a loop of red-and-white rope attached at the end, to act as a rudimentary collar.

"Come on, girl," the dog-catcher grunted, as he unlocked the gate, opening it just wide enough to reach through, and slipped the loop over Sasha's neck. "Let's get you moving, then."

Giving a gentle tug on the chain, he led the Setter out from the space where she had been enclosed for the past two days, making sure to lock the door again behind her. With that, he began to walk her back up the corridor with him, but he was suddenly interrupted by a voice from the other direction.

"Excuse us, sir!"

Pivoting around, the dog-catcher saw that a group of three police officers were walking towards him. The first two had the now-infamous Schnoodle being frog-marched between them, and the third was pushing along a large wooden crate on a trolley.

"Hello?" the man in the white shirt replied. "What seems to be the problem?"

"That's an innocent dog you've got there, sir," said the first officer. "This guy's the one you want!"

"Unhand me this instant, you foolish humans!" Killer barked, prompting an angry snarl from Sasha, and a taser in the side from the second officer.

"Down, girl, down!" the dog-catcher said to Sasha, pulling hard on his makeshift leash to keep her under control. "Are you officers sure about this?"

"Of course we are," the first of the policemen replied. "Show him the evidence, Grimes."

The third officer then stepped forward, pushing the trolley along in front of him. Once the crate was directly in front of the dog-catcher, Grimes unlocked and opened it, exposing the partially-dismantled body of a robot inside.

As the man observed the evidence, Sasha, resting her paws on the edge of the crate, looked inside as well. As she clapped eyes on her metallic doppelgänger, CyberSasha, her facial expression became one of shock.

"... Tell you what," the dog-catcher advised. "You keep the bad dog in the cell for now, and I'll let the Setter go. Would that be okay?"

"Yes," the first officer replied. "So long as you don't keep us waiting."

"But, but sir... I think that boy-dog looks too dangerous for the pound. Surely he belongs in Penitentiary?"

"We'll see, we'll see. Well, go on, then. She's a free dog now."

Meanwhile, in the lobby of the San Francisco Police Department, David and his father were sat, waiting, on a bench. The boy was hunched over, his head buried in his lap, as his father patted him comfortingly on the head.

"It's all right, son," he whispered. "It shouldn't take long."

In response, David straightened back up, and clutched his parent by the shoulder, his teary eyes looking back up at him. The boy said nothing, only making a few sniffling sounds.

After a few seconds of this, the father looked back up, and that was when he noticed the dog-catcher advancing into the room; the Setter, of course, was following closely behind.

"Hey, David!" he continued. "Look!"

His son then turned towards the other man.

"Sasha!"

Hearing the boy's voice, the dog-catcher approached him.

"You know this dog, kid?"

"Uhh..."

"Yes," the father chipped in. "She's, err... a friend of my son's, sir."

"Doesn't seem like she has a licence. You don't own her as a pet, do you?"

"No, no," David answered. "She's not a pet. As my dad said, she's just a good friend of mine, that's all. Here, girl - give me your paw."

He then held out his hand, and Sasha responded by clasping her paw against it.

"See? She recognises me."

"Hmmm... I know this isn't really a part of my job, kid, but..."

He then moved his mouth closer to the boy's ear, and whispered, "I'll let you take her with you."

"Thank you, sir!"

With that, the dog-catcher removed the rope and chain from Sasha's neck, allowing her to follow David, and his father, back to their house.

"So, Sparlie! Now that you have put a stop to the forces of evil once again, what are you planning to do next, _hmmm?_ A relaxing vacation in Dragon Shores, perhaps? Or maybe an excursion to Sunny Beach or Seashell Shore would be more to your liking?"

"Well, Bentley... as much as I'd love to, I'm afraid I... err, I mean, _Charlie_ has a few small matters to be dealing with in his world."

The dragon-dog, and the yeti, were standing in a lush, green field, with a boom microphone stood between them, as though they had been conducting an interview. Not only were _they_ there, but a small group of Spyro's friends and allies were also in attendance: Sheila, the Kangaroo; Sgt. Byrd, the Flying Penguin; Hunter, the Cheetah; and Bianca, the Rabbit. In addition, Sparx, the Dragonfly, was hovering by Sparlie's shoulder; Annabelle, the Professor, and Agent 9 - in Angel form - were stood behind him.

"Oh, please do attempt to make good conversation," the pink Whippet advised Sparlie. "We did not come here for nothing, you know."

"Oh, yes," he replied, remembering that he was, in fact, two creatures in one body. "In that case, yes, _Spyro_ would be more than happy to, err... take a break from all that's been... happening over the past two days."

With that, he turned back to his superior, noticing her raised eyebrows, before looking towards the enrobed, and haloed, monkey.

"Goodbye, friend," Sparlie continued, still speaking as Spyro. "It's been great knowing you."

Next, Annabelle formed a column of light over Agent 9, and he began to levitate up off the ground.

"See ya," he replied. "Time to get back to those golden bananas, and silver coconuts too..."

Everyone watched, with small tears forming in their eyes, as the simian slowly ascended up the column. A minute later, he was nowhere to be seen, and they all lowered their heads in remembrance.

Once this ceremony had been completed, it was time for Sparlie - or rather, _Charlie_ \- and Annabelle, to leave. As the dragon-dog was about to step into the portal in the centre of the field, however, the Whippet quickly checked him.

"A-hem!" she said. "First things first, _you two._ "

She then placed her paw over his canine nose, and he was covered all over in a pink glow. As he was enveloped in the light, the form of Sparlie began to split into its two separate bodies, and when the glow finally disappeared, Charlie and Spyro were stood side-by-side, with Sparx migrating to the shoulder of the dragon.

Once the two dogs had said their farewells, they entered the portal, and drifted through, back to their own world.

On the other side, the Shepherd and the Whippet found themselves in the living-room of David's house.

"Hey..." said Charlie, once he was on his feet again. "We're back."

Upon taking a quick look around, however, he saw that there appeared to be no one else in the room... but not for long.

A second later, there came the sound of the front door unlocking, and opening.

"There we go," said the voice of David's father. "Home again!"

Charlie's ears perked up, before he made a bee-line for the hallway.

"David!" he called out, as he stepped through the doorway. "Good to see you, buddy!"

As the Shepherd approached him, the boy gave Charlie a stroke on the head. The dog rolled over on to his back, but instead of David, it was another dog who came up to scratch his belly.

"Well, hello, my favourite boy," she said, moving her face up to his. "Missed me?"

"Sasha!" Charlie rejoiced. "You're back!"

" _Nooo..._ " the red Setter gasped sarcastically.

"Well, to answer your question," the Shepherd cross continued. "I missed you so much, I couldn't sleep a wink at night."

"Hmm. Neither could I, funnily enough."

"Come along now, you two love-birds," said Annabelle jokingly. "Mr. Itchiford is upstairs, if you wish to see him."

"Okay, then," Charlie replied, as Sasha helped him back up. "Let's go."

With that, the three dogs made their way up the stairs, and into David's room. Inside, they found their Dachshund friend sitting in bed, with a bowl of ambrosia resting on the bedside chest-of-drawers. In addition, Gerta was sat on a bean-bag near the closet, where David's step-mother was tending to her wounds.

"Hey! Itchy-m'-boy!" the Shepherd continued. "How're you feeling?"

"Huh... not too bad, actually," his friend replied. "Thanks to this ambrosia, I'm feeling a lot better."

"That's great. Here... I believe this is yours."

Charlie then removed the scabbard holding the second _wakizashi_ from his back, and set it down gently on the bed.

"Thank you. Could you place that by the drawers, please?"

Doing as directed, the Shepherd re-located the sword, propping it up next to its twin. After that, he turned to face Itchy again.

"What's this, eh?" he said, resting his paw on the Dachshund's cap, noting that its peak was pointing forward.

"Heh-heh... You can blame Annabelle for that."

Upon hearing this, the Whippet Archangel gave the two males a stern glance. Once Charlie had slowly turned the cap around, her expression grew into one of annoyance.

"Sorry..." Charlie responded, turning the hat back to its original position, before raising his paws with guilt.

Behind him, meanwhile, Sasha had been speaking with Gerta.

"My gosh," the red-furred dog began. "What happened to you?"

"There was an earthquake at the Café," the Bichon explained. "Charlie managed to pull me out from the rubble, but in the meantime, we're out of a job."

Sasha's face fell on those last five words.

"What now, then?" she continued after a few moments of hesitation. "Without jobs, we'll both end up going broke."

"Well," Gerta replied in her gravelly voice. "We'd better get cracking, then. Or, at least, _you'd_ better, until I'm back in shape."

Sasha nodded, straightening back up, as a paw rested on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Sash," said Charlie. "I'll help you sort things out."

"You will?"

"Of course I will. Tell you what - how 'bout we have an afternoon out?"

Sasha's eyes widened at the thought.

"... Well... I don't see why not. Yes, that sounds good. Something to help take my mind off things, perhaps."

She then briefly rubbed noses with her partner, before he led her away.

"Hmm..." Charlie muttered. "Now, why do I have this craving for mutton?"

Sasha glared with her emerald eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, err... Nothing."

As the canine couple were about to open the door and leave, Charlie turned back to face his friend once more.

"You can't keep a good dog down, eh?" he remarked.

"No..." the Dachshund replied, his voice quietening almost to a whisper. "... You can't."

Once his friends had left the room, he lowered the pillow from the headboard to the mattress, and rested his tired head against it.

"Rest well, Mr. Itchiford," Annabelle said to him. "Am I to trust that you will be fit to remain without me for a short while?"

"Yes, Ms. Annabelle. I'll be all right."

He then briefly sat back up to take another yellow cube from the bowl. Once he had swallowed it, he lowered his head back down on to the soft white pillow.

"Goodbye," the Whippet said, as she made her way out through the door. "I will be back soon, Mr. Itchiford. If you should require anything, feel free to ask the good lady."

Just as the door-handle clicked back into place, the Dachshund's eyes fell closed.

 _Ahhh,_ he sighed in his mind, as David's step-mother patted him gently on the top of his head. _Just you guys wait till I'm back on my feet again. Tomorrow is going to be a good day._

== The End ==

 _ **The author claims NO ownership of the characters depicted in this work.**_

 _ **The All Dogs Go to Heaven franchise, and related characters, are property of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.**_

 _ **Spyro The Dragon and related characters are the creation of Insomniac Games, and are currently property of Activision.**_


End file.
